Poem of the Week: The Walk Out
She saw it coming: the cold pit
in the bed, his irregular hours,
strolling in with expectation
for dinner, a rub of her legs.
She wondered if he had a second family,
like in the films: a better-dressed wife
pops up at a patriarch's funeral,
towing two children with his eyes.
She heard the door in the morning
—like a departure for work,
imagined dew on the windscreen,
pink sky, squabbling birds—
after a night of straying, his soft steps
on the stairs a too-needed snuggle,
sour breath close to hers.
When it happened, she didn't know
it would be the last time, that tired cliche.
Her hands in his hair, the rumble of his throat.
When she woke, an indent in the pillow
was all that remained. She felt nothing
but normal as she packed lunches,
swept floors, filled bowls.
In the weeks that followed, she told herself he'd return.
She wasn't the first woman scorned, to be a doormat
to an ungrateful—No, she stopped herself.
He'd be back. Eventually, the child asked,
mum, where's the cat?
Alice Kinsella is the author of Milk: on motherhood and madness (Picador, 2023). The Ethics of Cats (Broken Sleep Books, 2025) is her debut full-length poetry collection. She is an Arts Council of Ireland Next Generation Artist, and lives in Co Mayo
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