The thief
There’s nothing petty about this thief
who cuts your purse with a practised flick
of his knife and pockets its contents.
Copper, silver, gold – he wants it all.
He covets your horde, this magpie,
wants your shiniest thoughts
to turn over in his beak –
a foil for his shabby nest.
He raids your bookcases and cabinets
turns out drawers and roots out
Greek, Latin and German fragments
shreds them all over the floor.
Not content with originals and first editions,
he pilfers the utilitarian and everyday –
pencils, keys and dogs –
leaving only things that write, lock, bark.
This thief rifles your cupboards, slits pillows
and, in the suffocating confusion of feathers,
crawls under the bed to loot the shoe box
where you hide our names.
Miriam Jones is a freelance writer and editor. She is studying for an MA in Creative and Critical Writing at the University of Winchester and won the poetry category in the 2017 Winchester Writers’ Festival.