• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 05


She turns her blanked-out face  
from the future, wallpapers
her present with daytime television.

She ignores the children
quarrelling on the shag-pile, poking at
each other, goading the puppy.

Her household weapons are abandoned –
brushes, mops, hoover attachments
splay on the floor like garbage.

Her mother-in-law has left apples
redcurrants, peaches. She will eat sausage
rolls, washed down with Fanta.

She is pursued by contemporary demons.
Accuses herself – too fat, too old,
too lazy, too stupid, too afraid.

Has no vision of life beyond the sofa.  
Surprises herself sometimes
by remembering to breathe.