Sound Supermarket by Victoria Sherratt

Sound Supermarket

At the music counter I ask for fat rashers

of jazz, half a kilo of opera, several packets

of sweetened incidental music.

I add to my trolley a click for the kettle,

to let me know it has boiled

and a clink of spoon that stirs

in milk and sugar, a little sigh

to accompany my sitting down,

a sachet of crunches for my ginger biscuit.

Some conversation, long as spaghetti,

but with more substance, and for a treat

a few phrases of Italian to go with tonight's pizza.

Here's assorted birdsong, loose in big tubs,

to scatter throughout the day. I take three scoops.

No barking this week

for the neighbour's dog, nor the motory noises

of Sunday afternoon lawn mowers,

chainsaws chewing wood, no roars

or revs for speeding motorbikes.

For my house I choose familiar noises -

the creaks, your footsteps

coming down the stairs,

a softly closing door.

Victoria Sherratt lives in North Staffordshire. She was a teacher of the deaf before retraining to become a couple therapist. Now retired, she loves spending time playing about with words to create poetry. She also enjoys cycling, dressmaking, being with her seven grandchildren and exploring this country and abroad with her husband in their motorhome.