December Bones

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

Break dust with smiling elves, December bones. 

Gutting smell of stranded beach rot,
Crack, a stomach slapping gunshot,
Urging not to Fall so far this time.

Still I feast on you with hope
Still, within a devil's spoke

Spin apart my grief-worn, December bones. 


My protégé, my ward, my limb,
One quarter of my origin,
Skin (once thawed) is freezing pore by pore.

I could bind you to my wound
Bind the blood and ice exhumed

Diamond crush them softly, flatten the moans.

Whistling through his soldiered woodland,
hollowed root and mud I stood and
flooding them with impish light and laughter,

Raged against the winter silence
Soothed the night with loving violence

Built them back with plaster, December bones.

bereavementChristmasgrandfathergriefjoni mitchelllove

◄ Cinquain #2 (Tired)

First Christmas ►


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