Joanna Ingham

No blood in IKEA

The day we found you were coming to us, we drove to IKEA. 
We knew the route, the dusk of Harrow, but the landmarks had shifted. 

There is no blood in IKEA. Cells do not divide against the clean white surfaces. 
Cows do not bellow on all fours on the beds with imaginative storage. 

The returns department, while inefficient, is operational. 

Homeward, sideboard bungeed to the roof rack, I thought of the road 
uncoiling in the dark between us. It seemed a long way to travel.

Later, wired for the section, they told me it would feel like dishes being done 
in my belly. I tried to think of the kitchens with soft close doors, 

the rows of stainless sinks. Ammeran. Langudden.

Joanna Ingham's poetry has been widely published in magazines and journals including Ambit, Magma, The North and Under the Radar. It has also appeared in The Sunday Times and the anthology The Best British Poetry 2012 (Salt). Her pamphlet Naming Bones was published by ignitionpress (Oxford Brookes University) in 2019.