The Electrician

came unexpectedly. We were eating
the raspberry trifle Lesley had brought.

It might have been really awkward,
him in his yellow overalls with their

blue machine-embroidered logo that read
JD Electrics in a font unknown to me.

Ricky had just asked Lesley if she’d bought
the raspberry trifle in the small Tesco

and decanted it into her own bowl.
He put down his toolbox, and us

at ease with a few grisly anecdotes
about wattage-inspired fatalities

you could trust the authenticity of.
I mean, of all people, he should know.