Boxing Day 2004
Christmas drift untidies our house,
my coffee’s cold. Last night’s wine,
an undrawn curtain.
The phone rings, my brother, agitated,
Have you seen the news? Have you?
Turn it on. Turn it on now.
My dry throat scratches,
someone clangs pots and pans.
Later, I say. No. Now. And I agree
to keep him happy.
My son couldn’t be in danger.
He’s fine. He always says so.
Swollen tidal waves break,
disembodied voices
facts about tectonic plates.
unvirtuous reality, places, faces. Fright
beyond imagination ripples on
the screen……. challenged
by poor reception in our valley.
A scream ricochets.
My daughter: Mum, what’s wrong?
Ceinwen lives in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, and writes short stories and poetry. She has been published in web magazines and in print anthologies. She graduated with an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University in 2017. She believes everyone’s voices counts.
@CeinwenHaydon
https://www.facebook.com/ceinwen.haydon
atriumpoetry.com 