Home is where it gets dark

My daughter and I swapped rooms.
Her bed is now in the big room and my mat in the small one.
She wanted the big room to spread out all her things.
I’m sleeping better in the little one because the walls are closer.

I made savoury rice in the large frypan.
I put the leftovers in the freezer for another day.
I watched Escape to the Country.
In the Mystery House the escapees loved the master bedroom’s view.

The brown-haired woman had a nest in the park on the woodchips against a fence.
There was a sleeping bag and a shopping trolley full of clothes.
She was always there asleep in the afternoons.
One time I tiptoed close and left my apple near her sleeping hair.

Yesterday I thought I might leave my banana but I didn’t.
The ground around her was strewn with clothing and packaging.
Today her trolley and bedding and body were gone.
There were bits of cloth on the woodchips. A tampon new in its plastic.

First published in Live Canon International Poetry Competition 2019 Anthology