George Crabbe Poetry Competition 2024 – 3rd Prize
Adjudicator: Luke Wright
The box is pretty big.
It’s been sitting on the junk room shelf
for five cold winters now.
Socks, pants, shoes: a piece of piss,
dealt with quickly, thoughtlessly.
Books, CDs, paperwork: hard, a year on.
Jumpers, shirts, suits: much trickier.
It’s been a gradual process.
It’s his meds today, I’ve decided –
and there are quite a lot of them.
Any sharps in here? she asks. Any controlled drugs?
No, I say, but actually
she finds diamorphine ampoules
he never needed at the end
and she says – I’m so sorry, his name?
Please sign here, you’re the wife?
No one’s called me this for five cold winters –
they use the other word these days
but this feels right, like me again,
and I’d forgotten how it makes me feel.
So I thank her, return to my freezing house,
howl, like in the early days,
take a deep breath,
post his guitars on eBay.
Copyright © 2024 Susan Garrett