Alone by Deborah Ager
Over the fence, the dead settle in
for a journey. Nine o’clock.
You are alone for the first time
today. Boys asleep. Husband out.
A beer bottle sweats in your hand,
and sea lavender clogs the air
with perfume. Think of yourself.
Your arms rest with nothing to do
after weeks spent attending to others.
Your thoughts turn to whether
butter will last the week, how much
longer the car can run on its partial tank of gas.
The television is turned off. The bedroom doors are shut. The front door is locked. The dog has just come in from her ‘nightly’ and is settled onto her princess pillow. I can see one cat who is grooming as she gets ready to dream whatever cats dream about. And I am surrounded by just the sound of appliances humming in the kitchen, the sound of my fingers tapping on my keyboard and the lap top fan blowing. I am not wearing my green glasses
tonight and all is well.