Home for Christmas

They left the hospital 
while it was being done –
the cold air
took them by the arm;
streets, cars, people,
floated, swayed past.

I’ll do it, he said;
I haven’t lost one yet,
he added, but I will –
scalpel-sharp words
across thousands of miles
of traffic-noise,

their daughter’s screams 
in their ears –
they couldn’t switch off
as they moonwalked around
the craters in Oxford Street, 
with their deceptively firm
footholds of Christmas cheer.


© Nemo 2023
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is this about abortion? that’s the only thing i could imagine. am I right?
it’s a very strong and sad poem.

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