Beetle Drive

Photo by Stephen Hocking on Unsplash

Headscarf on tight,
as if stuck down with araldite,
she shuffled into the church hall
on this raw, black evening
her lipsticked lips
smiling the compulsory smile
eyes wildly akimbo.
She nodded at neighbours, friends,
world without end.
she’d made the tea, Freda had the kids.
Fred hadn’t even asked her
how the appointment had gone
leukemia they’d said.
She wondered if she’d soon be dead
don’t be maudlin, she reprimanded herself
her brain flooded with fear
what would…