Last night I went to bed bookless –
a calamitous killer of sleep.
I’d searched the car,
the bathroom, the bedroom,
and down the back of the sofa –
but the novel had vanished in smoke.
I am always losing things:
hearing-aids and handbags
but this afternoon I hit rock bottom
when husband was making the tea:
he yelled at me across the room
“Why is your book in the fridge?”