Burglaries
You have been burgled.
While you were out with the dog,
a burglar made best use of that
yawning kitchen keyhole to spook
through tracelessly.
They were a ghost,
floating through your house,
with all the time in the world
to inventory your every item
while you threw sticks.
They were seconds gone
when you got back and in,
and the dog didn’t hesitate
on the threshold and there were
no alarms triggering concern.
What did they take?
An old National Rail ticket
and your fan assisted oven
and all your bedding; and
the missing ticket’s knocked you.
You are burgled again
the week later, the same way, losing
the brown leaves on an indoor palm
and the ancient family heirloom Bible,
and you only notice the missing foliage.
The next burglary happens
while you’re there at home,
the chain from your neck unclasped
the glasses on your face removed
and the lint in your pocket lifted.
And the time after that
you inertly watch a faceless shape
of fingers hands and heft roll rugs up,
take the radiators off the walls
and peel the socks from your feet.
You are being burgled endlessly
but never report it, even as you sit
in your emptying home, squinting,
gingerly treading ripped up floorboards,
calling the dog who’s out of earshot.
Darren Deeks is based in North West London and works in local government. He has a master’s degree in Creative Writing and facilitates the Manor Farm Poet’s workshop in Ruislip.