One whole year's

time emptied

Like lace leaves

From the cold trees

Skeletal wisps

You are missing 

attic tinsel 

Boxed deep and dusting

With bristles flaking

From the broken spine

So no silver lines 

Our crisp, black-branched pine.

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Christmas fairy lights still dangle,
Plastic string of neon candles,
Hallowing the wreckage of the year.

Streaming ‘River’ on repeat
River Warbling marrow-deep

Wash away those spiteful, December bones.

From jigsaws sat on nickel knees
To whisky-nursing you in sprees,
Femurs first you left us piece by piece.

Frailty distils the waters
Trickles down through all your daughters

...

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Thank you, dears.

For marched words

rawed bare, from

placard rage

to simpered

platitudes.

For now, plain,

awful grief

is just. Mine.

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