In the Eclipse

My mother 
told me over toast.

It was the first news for years.
I acted all nonchalant
but melted
with the butter.

How time aches us
my debut girl.

Your husband 
choking 
in the bath
while you sang 
Judy Garland
on the landing.

A death portrait
viewed from the bidet.

A cup of tea in your hand.

How those curtains must twitch
down your suburbia.

Now men cross the street
where once they winked.
Craved your eyes
under their breaths
through fidget sleep.

And this morning 
in the eclipse
you are lost property.

A middle-aged woman,
trying to hunt a rainbow
as the light presses
all your honeyed dreams.