Mrs. Mac's Christmas

Mrs. Mac's Christmas

Winter blackout, 

frost-glittered pavements,

darkness flows through her like ink.

Pulling crackers with the carer

she unfolds a golden crown,

toasts a turkey dinner with Bristol Cream.

Tiger's sandpaper tongue

rasps her hands,

a Christmas requiem in his throat.

“How are you Mrs. Mac?”

jingles four times a day,  

through the window, a neighbour's flashing reindeer.

Snowmen jostle on her mantlepiece,

with robins, stars, paper Santas,

a fibre optic tree from her grandson.

During Life On Earth

her daughter calls from Winnipeg;

she holds the phone away,

watches polar bears

floundering in open seas;

snowflakes can melt.