only in Wales

only in Wales...
we wear hats in the kitchen,
wrapped up in blankets,
mother messing with mouse traps
as we wait for the water to warm
and the bread to rise.

I carry the coal scuttle from the coal shed
next to the broken gutter which floods
each time it rains and my brother paddles
in his nappy, casting the spilled nuggets
to the worms beneath his bare feet.

I jump barbed wire without ripping
my leg open, spit like a boy and pee
over thistles, in the blind field;
where I river walk, moon dance
and chase shooting stars.

And only in Wales,
I talk to my new born, old child,
deep in the heno;
nos da, amser gwelly,
mynd y cysgu and peid a cravi!

Fingering the sounds with my tongue and
waiting for no one to begin our long cwtch down.