Something a little less sinister. Maybe.

Cooking for two

There is something about the way you gather
ingredients for noodle soup that catches me.
Mushrooms, baby sweetcorn, mange tout.
You pause around the carrots and frown
for a memory of owning your own—find it.

You have counted the noodles, collected the soy
and now find yourself shy of coconut milk.
All done, you tap your list and reach
for tinned plums. You smile a secret smile
that is not hidden because here I am, watching.