Attaching the brittle globes to wire –
lime green against sky blue against blood red –
I think of how their shine picks up the fire
of the candle flame. ‘I hate Christmas,’ you said,
‘It’s so lightweight – the emptiness, the greed.’
You made me think of hollow rooms,
of risen soufflés, sky-blown seeds,
of fluttering sparks left spitting through the gloom.
I hang the cards, suspend the wassailing balls,
drape tinsel, fit the glitter-ball in place –
it slowly turns, its glinting mirrored walls
shedding fractured glimpses of my face.
We never could decide which stuff was yours.
The emptiness? The greed? The bubble burst?
As I blu-tack tinsel over all the doors,
I wonder which of us was actually the worst.
Yorkshirewoman Louise Wilford is an English teacher and examiner. She has had around 60 poems and short stories published in magazines including Popshots, Pushing Out The Boat, The Stinging Fly, Acumen and Agenda, and has won or been shortlisted for several competitions. She is currently writing a children’s fantasy novel.