We rip the lights out of the window

without ceremony

cast into a cardboard box marked xmas

The marker pen cannot spell straight

cannot write with the same careful script 

that foretold the coming of the season.

We throw old vegetables 

in the pot

in this stew we ferment 

the awkward mouthfuls

with trapped wind.

So, I wonder what happened to the North star?

that used to light the future. 

A man wrapped in careful knitted Arrans

across his chest

just to be nice

What happened to the North Pole and the direction 

NNW

in balance slight askew.

Remember when we swam fat with seals through the ice?

and now I dont know what time it is

and wait until the buses run 

to take me back the place I just came from

We mark ourselves back on the calender

boxed off in black lines

that cross the days

one at a time.