Winter is Coming
F. O'Leary

She said it first came on when she sensed
the exact length of the queue,
                   – the full force of their riled-up-venom, waiting –
as she left a few bits at the till,
having been drawn in by the festive two-for-ones,
and the total was too much.

She said the feeling came up stronger
when she had an old pillow case laid out
                   – the Christmas ads a fuzz in the background –
struggling to make an angel costume
before the next day’s school play,
and she hadn’t yet found the words to say
that she couldn’t
get the time off work to watch.

She said the feeling came over again
with the arrival of every red marked letter,
                   – final demanding, prosecution threatening –
and with all the card declining, each time
she was given notice of insufficient funds.

Then when it came to knocks on the door,
and the bailiffs tried to take the jewellery
that had belonged to her Gran,
that’s when, she said, she began to feel
full-on-fierce, and imagined
                   wreaking revenge,
                   Game-of-Thrones-Wildings-style.

F. O'Leary is originally from East Anglia and currently lives, works and writes in London.

Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter (wveditor@gmail.com)
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