January 2

TUESDAY 8

Antibiotics

again. At least tonight is

light past half-past four.

WEDNESDAY 9

Hairdressers then chest

x-ray, both in gowns that go

a different way round.

THURSDAY 10

Ripples projected

on the walls of the bath, like

the tide encroaching.

FRIDAY 11

Almost no one in

Costa to be disturbed by

me scraping my chair.

SATURDAY 12

Wine-dark beads slide down

tigertail clasped between my

teeth to keep them on.

SUNDAY 13

Stripes between the strips

of blind, one bright coral line,

the rest blue, fading.

MONDAY 14

A puzzle from a

cracker, impossible to solve,

becomes a necklace.

© Jacqui Rowe