Each day…
When they are not watching
she eats celery in the nude.
She sends herself emails.
She reads one chapter
from the New Testament
in a different accent.
Yesterday it was Revelations
chapter five, in Glaswegian.
She cuts a flowering stem
before dark and lays it upon
the plumped pillow next to her own.
She sings hymns in the shower,
softly – to ward off psychopaths.
A string of garlic hangs
outside the bathroom door.
On Fridays she enjoys
a glass of iced amaretto
as she thumbs the single’s page
of the local Gazette,
making faces for names
that she will never call.
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