‘Guest Room’ by Victoria Kennefick

I change the duvet cover like she showed me,
inside-out, corner-to-corner; lift it over
my head, seams must be flush.
I fold a pyramid of towels jewelled
with tiny soaps, body lotions borrowed
from hotels, the red hot water bottle
I’ll fill later – her rubber husband.
I shake n’ vac the carpet forest fresh; suck
spiders’ webs from each corner, grey
and fuzzy, thick as pelts.

My mother’s perfume sniffs out
that I did not iron the sheets.
Her nightdress pressed into a perfect square,
a village of potions on the bedside locker.
My heart sags, an empty hammock
yawning for the cradle of her arms,
the animal comfort of her wolf-fur
coat. I hear her pottering in my kitchen,
tidying. I turn out the light; night
cracks its knuckles.

From issue #1: autumn/winter 2015

About the Author
Victoria Kennefick’s debut poetry pamphlet, White Whale (Southword Editions 2015), won the Munster Literature Fool for Poetry Chapbook Competition 2014 and the Saboteur Award for Best Poetry Pamphlet 2015. Her work has appeared in Poetry, The Stinging Fly and New Irish Writing. Follow her at @VKennefick.