Rice

“I watched my mother disappear into care and labour,

into a life that was not her own.” – Annie Ernaux

 

I watched him pull away

as our child was born.

We arrived together

at the maternity hospital –

one self almost,

shared fears, shared dreams,

the child in my belly

equal parts his and mine –

but from the moment

she unrolled from my womb

(slick! blue as a dolphin!)

we were set on different paths.

 

A decade later

our words are not the same.

He talks of promotion and travel.

I reply in a weary voice

I no longer recognise

that the bins go

out tomorrow

and we are

out of

rice.