Evenings, she puts on her second-best hat
skewered by a tortoise shell pin,
buttons up her heart in her mohair coats and
goes out to pick a bone with the moon.
On the red-leaded step she scans the stars,
imagines them sparks from his hammer.
Her heart is fierce and as his chisel,
weighs like a bag of four inch nails.
In her pocket she’s packing a fistful of humbugs,
matches, twenty Players Weights.
She hears the black kettle hissing on the stove on stand-by,
the relentless ticking of the clock.
On her tongue, a retort fit to slice a man open.
In her head, a dozen what ifs.
[Originally published in Ink, Sweat & Tears, 2021]
Abigail Ottley writes poetry and short fiction, A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee and twice winner of the Wildfire 150, she came second in the 2024 Plaza Prose Poetry competition. Her debut collection will be published by Yaffle's Nest in May, 2025. She lives in Penzance in Cornwall.