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  • Ollie Horsfall

Emma


Source: https://www.etsy.com/shop/EtsyLoft?ref=l2-shopheader-name

Dinner

She stopped eating.

Washing dishes

Wringing hands

Over and over

Her skin

Red and sore.


Soft hands

Cupping my face

To say I love you.

I’d say it back.

And smile.


Hands dry

All that soap.

The dirt clung to her nails.

A plate of potatoes and meat.


Overdone.

Chew and chew

Hot tap;

Gently place a pan in

Scalding water;

Follow with dry, red hands;

unflinching.


The same hands

placing a ring

on my finger.


The kitchen

Empty.

No daffodils now

Sunlight: hollow.

All the colours,

all the happiness,

drifting away;

some odd circumstance.


I came home.

I smelt her food.

Burning.

I walked into the kitchen.

She was slumped…

In my place.

Alarm beeping.

Smoke from the oven.

We weren’t breathing anyway.

Her hands: red and sore.


Tears in her eyes,

To tell me she was pregnant

The tears had dried now.

Bottle of pills: empty

Picture of our baby, in the other.


The kitchen: empty.

The coffin: on its way.

I dressed her; a bright yellow dress,

I placed a picture; last thing

held with any meaning

in her hands; fastened together.


Her name was Emma.

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