Poetry

It Used to be a Wreath

It used to be a wreath
Nailed to the front door
Which told us:
A house of grief

Now it may be
The radio on the window sill
Permanently tuned
To Radio 4

Or the calendar on the kitchen wall
With more white spaces at weekends
Than it had before

Or one of a pair of tickets
For the Olivier stalls
A cash sale to a student
Queuing for returns

Or the red light on the answer phone
Unblinking
When you get  home from work…
No messages

Now the house can be your body too
And you can carry a packet of loss
To work with you
In your belly
Like a kangaroo 

It can be a sickness now
They’ll send you home
Yes home
Back to the dead red light
On the answerphone