The Neighbours
It was the caller ID
which daunted
for a moment
a selfish part of me
I went next door
to the possible passing
the one when I found
my neighbour’s
sick wife had died
But through ajar openings
and by calls aloud
I met her
alive
under scab formations
She had fallen
we all will
on a blood-marked rug
and had been hurried
to A&E
Patched
Now back
retuned to this bedroom
with supplements scattered
her able state was propped
Broken
I left to cut ham sandwiches
and delivered their meal
later
with an apologetic cough