The day I invited the psychopath to tea

was mild. Birds were singing.
People dropped kids off to school, shopped.
They even went for teas and coffees
after communion in St Judes.
I can’t remember giving him a key.
Perhaps he took off the doors,
picked the walls apart, brick by brick
until my furniture was laid bare.
The clock consented to be cogs and hands
scattered on the grass while the sun beat time.
Long eared rabbits nibbled limp lettuce
behind wire mesh.
I wondered,
if he could dismantle houses,
what could he do to governments,
Ben Nevis or schools.
All lessons would be cancelled
as we shivered in broken homes
with our box of bad matches.

(first published by Dreich, Home anthology, March 2021)

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