After he left, they told me –
‘Keep occupied...start writing...
take up painting, again.’ Buy
myself a dog; go for long walks
in the park. Enjoy my newfound
no more shirts to iron...no meals
to prepare at set times...no more
scraping toothpaste off the sink –
or being sick of my own voice
when I’d ask him, nicely, of course,
not to oil his bike in the kitchen...
But what do I do, when the tap’s
dripping, or the drain’s blocked?
“Ring a plumber,” they quipped.
“Can’t afford,” it my reply...
“Buy a book, then...on DIY,”
they said, and so I did. Except,
nowhere, but nowhere, did it explain,
how to fill the space he used to fit in.