Christmas

Christmas is a seaside cityscape with
A fair for the children only:
Blackpool illuminations,
Kiss-me-quick mistletoe,
Rides on the grey clapped-out
Donkey and thumping bass-lines of
Blaring party mantras from young chavs in
Their shabby, boozy carnival.
The fat man in red rules the
Day like an April Fool with his
Candy-floss beard and his
Clownish, fake ho-ho.

This Christmas is the moon,
Pure, cold and desolate.
The quiet of the utter barrenness is
Terrible and stifling. It is so full it
Presses on my chest.
It breathes my air.
The park is dark and frosty.
There are no sunny uplifted faces
To heat my heart,
Only empty beds and empty stockings.
It is winter here.