Christmas, 1998 / No. 2

yellow petals on the wet walkway near the door where dead letters lie

while forsythia hunches inside counting marble memories from a jar

they popped up everywhere

the ghostly white orb in the grass at granddad’s funeral

the crazy-quilt agate like a mexican blanket rootled from the sand

on her honeymoon

the cat’s-eye after the stillbirth

and the swirling blue and white sphere she found the day

the rock who was the world slipped away

Ian Allaby is a periodical writer whose work has appeared in Descant and Storyteller. Last updated Christmas, 1998.