You only left the office
thirty minutes ago,
the tube’s atrocious at the best
of times, the worst of times
nightmarish, you say, I have already
bought us drinks and aren’t
the prices going up all the time now,
yeah, but it’s a rarity this, I don’t even
drink that much, Christmas,
barely touched a drop, talking of which
did you have a nice one? Yeah,
not bad, I say, back in the country
with the family, socks
and Boxing Day board games,
that period between the 25th
and New Year’s so odd isn’t it,
I nod yes, ask if you made resolutions,
you nod yes, sip drink, yes, might
do a half marathon if I can rope him
into it, oh that’s nice, three years
you’ve been with him now? Almost four,
a miracle, really, but I do love him,
I’ll bring him next time, he’d be here now
but he plays squash on Thursdays,
ah never mind, there’s always next time,
next time! You say, wine-in-mouth,
we must do this more often, sure,
I reply, knowing this,
knowing nothing.

I.

snowdrop flourishes
frost-baptised in dawn’s first light
rows of white applause

-----

II.

gathered family
state of gratitude and warmth
lights twinkling on tree

-----

III.

transient language
Boxing Day trodden whispers
in sky’s yuletide gift

you bring the crimson
makes a system skittish
foreign electricity
in staccato arrivals

X marks the spot
seems fact over fiction
but your code unravelable
gridlock enigma

the heartbeat knows
mystery loves mischief
though years become strangers
rainless scraps of cloud

no better should know better
adulthood in lowercase
when we meet French lullabies
may I drink from your throat

Crayon pink cheeks
shimmer, blossoming
commotion of the skies,

like dream bundles
leaking in from beyond
wrapped in emerald silk,

atmosphere's blush,
Christmas come early
with electrical waltz.

at the edge of any town
evening leaks out over green tufts
trio of circular-headed
pumps with no cars to quench

grass like a smudge of butter
nudges the curbs
lights threading shadows
where a man

back to the road
waits for another vehicle
to pull up by
the unswinging Mobil

red Pegasus to signal
here is where you fill

they said you couldn't miss it
how it sprouts volatile
blood-built demon flora

or chain smoker’s inflamed lung
messy web of charred arteries
drips singe ground to orange

skinny hooks like sky fissures
a seeping wound that sullies
evening’s cobalt gauze

and no, you didn’t miss it
leaves well gone on winter's
vampiric apparition

A dismal bubble consumes the pair -

- the man, blotchy blue, plagued
with a sickness even he can't define,
his arms a hoop around her -

- the woman, lava-haired,
hot water drizzle no soothing salve,
no weather of comfort -

- even the kiss a torrid symbol,
blistering residue every time
they embrace. She wants to hold on -

- and he knows he can't escape.