I wrote my soul on a tea towel,
one I’d dried up with earlier,
the words smudged into the fabric,
absorbing my insides into the folds

Earlier it had met me, like a minder,
drying the crockery of my tears
as they ran the race of their lives,
soaking the top I’d carefully chosen

only earlier that day when a smile had
gathered pace and filled the emptiness,
completed the gaps of the worn out
in block capitals, hoping I’d notice

Who are you in the given shadows,
so unrecognisable in your black gown,
you placed the shawl over your head,
your neck gathering the undulating folds…..