Ken Champion

Gaps in wardrobes
spaces in cupboards
sitting on the stair
he knows she's gone.

The ornaments remain,
Wedgwood, Lladro Figurines,
Regency beaux, flower sellers
a girl with a cake teasing a dog
two children in a nursery fight
one holding a pillow above her head
like a murderous leg of lamb.

He places them on the floor,
a sheep standing in a saucer
an owl upside down in a bowl
lovers in an armless embrace
the new stumps strangely aged
gathers handfuls, armfuls, sackfuls
lays them in line in the hall,
treads on the protruding spout
of an elephant teapot

BUSE MNCUBE

In a train on a first date
to see Umoja she wears
a velvet hat and reads a newspaper
and I ask if it's an African thing.
We don't show love or hold hands
she says and with her soft Zulu ‘s’
asks if my sons are well.

She revels in disinterest;not asking
who I saw a film with but where,
not who I went to Paris with
but a polite raising of an eyebrow
and on her fifth visit in a year
the expressionless gaze in bed
with legs rigid as if wired together.

On my towpath walk she glides by in a boat
a young African's arm around her
and I resist running to keep up with
her dark eyes looking void into mine
short hair unmoved by the breeze
her lips soundlessly shaping the words
'How are the boys?'