Netanya is downstairs
vacuuming, says Benny,
and I lay in bed
thinking of my escape.
It has to be today:
tomorrow I return to work
and the chance
of a clean break
will have gone.
I get out of bed
and go wash
and dress.
I listen to her downstairs,
still busy.
I gather some
of my things
and money,
and my work uniform
in a bag,
under which I have
other clothes
for a few days.
I leave it by the bed
and go downstairs
and have breakfast and tea.
She is hanging washing
on the line,
and I eat and drink,
then go upstairs
for my things.
I come downstairs
and she is there
at the foot of the stairs.
She asks
where I am going
and I tell her
to take my uniform
to be cleaned
and that we
can pick it up
later together.
She nods her head
and watches me off
up the road.
I do not turn back
and wave,
but carry on
with my escape.
I buy a ticket
and board the train.
I watch other passengers
as the train pulls away,
and wonder what she is doing
and what she will think
when I do not return
from town.
I look out the window
at the passing view
of fields and trees
and sheep and cows
and cottages
and the blue blue sky,
and her thinking later
in the day:
Why? Why? Why?
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
Netanya is downstairs
vacuuming, says Benny,
and I lay in bed
thinking of my escape.
It has to be today:
tomorrow I return to work
and the chance
of a clean break
will have gone.
I get out of bed
and go wash
and dress.
I listen to her downstairs,
still busy.
I gather some
of my things
and money,
and my work uniform
in a bag,
under which I have
other clothes
for a few days.
I leave it by the bed
and go downstairs
and have breakfast and tea.
She is hanging washing
on the line,
and I eat and drink,
then go upstairs
for my things.
I come downstairs
and she is there
at the foot of the stairs.
She asks
where I am going
and I tell her
to take my uniform
to be cleaned
and that we
can pick it up
later together.
She nods her head
and watches me off
up the road.
I do not turn back
and wave,
but carry on
with my escape.
I buy a ticket
and board the train.
I watch other passengers
as the train pulls away,
and wonder what she is doing
and what she will think
when I do not return
from town.
I look out the window
at the passing view
of fields and trees
and sheep and cows
and cottages
and the blue blue sky,
and her thinking later
in the day:
Why? Why? Why?
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