short sighted 
my lipstick mistaken for your lighter 

my black dress/yr jeans 

your clothes now
claimed for 
my own 

write whilst 
you step outside for a 
smoke –
wafts as if shaking shoulder/laughter

i stare at you
while i comb my hair
for ten minutes 

until i realise i need 
a mirror
as i know every inch 

of your face but not
the condition of my hair 

took apart the sandwich
made two new
i didn’t like the egg, lettuce or tomato
so they had to go


Kate Lewington (C)