is lying on a blanket beneath an oak tree,
a picnic spread on a white tablecloth.

She pillows her head on her hands, watches the light
dapple through the leaves. Soon her husband

will stroll to join her but for now she’s enjoying
being alone. She has no pain between her shoulder blades,

her mother is still alive, her grandmother died
gently, her friends are neither dead nor scattered.

She is not afraid she left the front door open
or the tap turned on. She is not afraid she undercooked

the chicken and poisoned her family, nor
that driving home last night she ran someone over

and didn't realise it. In this poem
she simply delights in the sunshine.