TUESDAY 1
Dogs still out. By the
park, lights on in the Chinese
and the pizza shop.
WEDNESDAY 2
Avoid stairs, listen
to the cough bouncing off the
steel walls of the lift.
THURDAY 3
A brown Green Man on
my iPad screen, eyes peeping
from behind the apps.
FRIDAY 4
Boots, grey trousers, two
white jumpers, red alpaca
cowl, beret, tweed coat.
SATURDAY 5
Lying here, coughing,
in a dream where I’m stuck on
a bus in Cheltenham.
SUNDAY 6
Pine cones, evergreens,
holly berries, first wreath I’ve
hung for years, come down.
MONDAY 7
The grapes are green, cold.
My teeth peel them, I swallow
crushed juice from their flesh.
Seventeen 