The Promise

I will build a tomb
of all the biscuits burned,

fresh food spoiled,
all the dishes washed

in luke warm water,
the vaccuming unfinished.

All the 'fat and forty'
matrons with their books

with no light at the end
of their tunnels

will huddle there
in the quiet dark

shivering at the scratch
and scurry of the unseen,

trying to remember
the spells for fire.