A Horse with No Name
How long we live
with choices to make
forms to fill in
What will I call myself?
Will anyone notice if I don’t
if I just keep walking
Barefoot is my preference
That night I slept so well
Remember Joe?
I crashed a car looking for him
in boots that didn’t fit and overalls
frayed at the hems
He rubbed my stomach
and I lay not wanting to move
in case he stopped
Mamma Mia
The dog hair is mounting up and I am standing at the open fridge, eating vegan smoky
‘ham’ wrapped in lettuce. Two slices of ham, one lettuce leaf has the correct ratio of salt
and fresh and slime and crunch so I keep going until the packet is finished and there is a
new bin bag so it falls right to the bottom of the bin and no one will ever know I bought
it. I miss eating alone, I miss having a whole day to do what the hell I like even though
days alone and days with interruptions are similar, the line wobbling between leave me
alone and call me. Nobody calls anymore – email me why don’t you – no not you, I’m
busy stockpiling the coconut milk I like from the clearance shelf. Enjoy your coffee, says
the woman at the checkout. I’ve been telling her about my coffee preferences for the
duration of scanning and packing, which isn’t long – 2 bags worth - and my coffee
preference isn’t complicated, I just really like that brand of coconut milk and yes, I will
enjoy it, I will drink my fourth cup right now to wash down the salt and fresh and slime
and crunch with a chewy stick of liquorice and try not to think about the kiss on the back
of my neck.
Lovesong
The man who asks how to prepare granola
The man who asks if Red Bull contains alcohol
The man who asks if my car is any good
I tell him you just pour milk on it
I tell him there is only sugar and caffeine
I tell him the sliding doors are handy
The man who asks for a massage
I don’t tell him anything
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Kathrine Sowerby lives in Glasgow and is the author of that bird loved (Hesterglock Press) and House However (Vagabond Voices). More at kathrinesowerby.com
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