Saturday, February 4, 2012


“Ickle
Christmas” © Mike Absalom January 6th 2012.

I wear my masks carelessly on
purpose.
You can always see behind
them if you walk backwards.

Walking backwards she
collapses slowly
like a deck of badly shuffled
Christmas cards.

A ziggurat in the Mesopotamian
desert
could have done it more
gracefully,
and given time and a
competent therapist
I am sure she could have marked
the end of this year’s festive deadline
as lightly as any other feather
duster fairy
seconded from the kitchen by
the Pot Gods
to blow the Christmas cobwebs
away.

In other years I have watched
her
handle herself with the icy
composure of a veiled debutante
as she counted out the season
as delightfully,
as a child with a dandelion
clock.

But this year
Big Christmas had made her droop
like a suet sandwich.
Did I say she went down as gracefully
as a deck of cards?
Whoops!
I meant to say that she hit
the deck like a shot hippopotamus.

I know I should have gone to
help her
but there were three men in
turbans at the door
wreathed in sad smiles.

Thank God it’s already a different
year.

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