Surveillance
She heard it again last night,
a rattle wrapped in the rain,
pebble-dashing the window.
A scrabble outside her door,
calling her name. Eyes peer
through the letter box.
Somebody moves her clothes,
tears her magazines. She keeps watch
at her window, nets drawn back.
A little girl, in a white nightdress,
comes after dark to sit with her
on the arm of her sofa.
That doctor again with the silk voice.
Elsie it’s me — I’m coming back
soon with someone who can help.
The post box has a double,
upside down, shimmering in puddles.
Another slit to watch her through.
Judith Wozniak spent her working life as a doctor and has an MA in Writing Poetry. She won first prize in the Hippocrates Poetry Competition, 2020. Her pamphlet, Patient Watching, was published by Hedgehog Press in 2022. Website: https://www.judithwozniak.co.uk/