1st Prize -  Pat Simmons  (read poem)

Until

I am keeping this room swept until you come back.

I am keeping the bills paid until you come back.

I am keeping the boiler insured and annually inspected,
my under-arms clean, the dog vaccinated,
the garden dug and appropriately planted
until you come back.

Until you come back I am singing in your choir,
making sure they remember you.
I’ll teach you the new words
when you come back.

Until you come back
I am keeping my mind
stitched together
with hedgehog spines;
holding my bones
with iron breath
in a roughly skeleton shape;
my blood moving
in the right directions
Monday to Tuesday to Wednesday.

But what will you wear when you come back?
I’ve given your trousers away
to the Oxfam shop, and your socks for recycling.

Until you come back I have scattered your ash
out from the hill to the lake and under the trees.

And when you come back,
strolling up from the car park
slowly and in an ordinary sort of way,
stuffing, perhaps your keys in your pocket
or zipping your jacket up against the cold,
you’ll find everything clean, all in order,
your ashes lying tidy on the wind.
You’ll find me waiting on the hill,
under the trees,
until you come back.