Snow Globe

“Have faith,” he said, “Trust the process-

have you ever done it afore?”

I shook my head and he pointed at a hole

like a mouse-hole or the entrance wound

of an apple grub. “See yon? Ever wondered

how they sail the ship into the bottle?”

I shook my head – “Never mind,” he said.

I was dressed in green and red felt

with an oversized belt – my hat

like something a shoe-making elf

in a Ladybird book might place on their head,

it had a thin elastic chin cutting strap.

He was fixing me into a pair of boots –

like skiing boots, “The soles of these – magnetized –

they’ll glue you to the ground – solid,” – then

he batted them, as if batting them made it true-

“So when you’re upside down – don’t worry.

Your heart will drop to your mouth lad –

enjoy it, it’s like a roller coaster, only better.

Then when you roll back round you’ll be

blabbered with snow – if you can remember too –

wave at the people, maybe make a snowball.”

I looked at the gingerbread house –

the glass cork, the bung hole and wondered

at it’s size and scale and took a deep breath.  

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Comments

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Paul Sayer

Mon 16th Dec 2019 21:07

This is brilliant. Watching every movement of every flake... falling falling falling.

Very immersive Peter.

I adore it when poets 'shake' things up.
Po

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