SATURDAY 11 20
Men’s voices and the
twang of rackets are somewhere
distant, out of sight.
SUNDAY 12 20
Easter Sunday, Lent
over, but still no coffee,
still no alcohol.
MONDAY 13 20
Sharpening pencils with
a knife, a survival skill
I’ve only just learned.
TUESDAY 14 20
I’m high priestess of
this paraphernalia
in a chemist’s bag.
WEDNESDAY 15 20
Across the heads of
trees, the hospital a ship
on the horizon.
THURSDAY 16 20
Horse chestnut leaves are
open hands offering the spikes
that will be blossom.
FRIDAY 17 20
The robin is boss
of the lawn, while the blackbird
creeps around the edge.
Seventeen 