Whatever shall I do with this time to myself?
There is too much and too little choice all at once
So I content myself with ferreting the remains
of the laundry basket. So many socks! I have turned
the rogue ones outside out, mud sprinkling, dried
from when you came in wet, hauled the clinging
concertinas from your feet, leaving them where
they fell. I smooth the washed ones on radiators,
pinch out the heels blocked in with primary colours,
imagine your toes, like chewy gumballs. Then I go
and bake, lining my tins, so when you return
there will be sweetness for your mouth.
Jane Burn, a North East based writer is a member of 52, the North East Women Writing Collective, the Black Light Writing Group and the Tees Women Poets. Her poems have been published in a variety of magazines and anthologies.