Hamster - Bex Hainsworth

We came as a package deal.
My bags went under the bed
and his cage was slid between
the fridge and a bookcase:
a perfect fit, both of us,
slotted into your life.

Lifting the lid of the miniature house,
we looked down at him,
like nervous parents over a crib.
Asleep in the sawdust flakes,
he was round as a planet,
a perfect, sand coloured sphere,
fur gently shivering.

Before lockdown, he watched you
with wary eyes – intruder, pretender.
You kept your distance.
After the territorial struggle,
a begrudging cease-fire.

Yesterday, when you thought I wasn’t looking,
I saw you slip extra sunflower seeds
into his bowl. And this morning,
up early for a meeting, you returned,
brushed the hair from my face and whispered:
“He’s awake. He has enough water.”

I watch you now, hear your soft coo.
His speckled ears swivel, searching,
and you sniff each other through the bars,
curious, tentative, unaware of your symmetry.

Originally Published by Beyond the Storm - poems from the Covid-19 era, Write Out Loud 2020

Bex Hainsworth (she/her) is a bisexual poet and teacher based in Leicester, UK. She won the Collection HQ Prize as part of the East Riding Festival of Words and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Heavy Feather Review, Atrium, Okay Donkey, bath magg, and trampset. Her debut pamphlet of ecopoetry will be published by Black Cat Poetry Press in 2023. Find her on Twitter @PoetBex.