We rip the lights out of the window
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
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.