Samhain Fire
These words are ash, and don’t you forget it.
You, whose face could churn butter;
whose gurning mouth would melt it;
and whose voice could stick it to the pan.
You, who would salvage the un-burnt via scraping;
spread it upon toasted Barmbrack;
and break speckled bread whilst wassailing your fortune –
I hope you choke on that hidden sixpence.
The black cat that crossed your path that day was mine
and we were voyeurs through liquid crystal
so go ahead, sing your je ne regrette rien.
I will throw your letter onto the Samhain fire.
I’ve carved your face into a hollowed turnip
so that when the guisers come, bearing sacks,
as a treat, I can teach them to memorise
your idle threats.
Philippe Blenkiron holds an MA in Creative Writing from Keele University. His work has previously featured in Shoestring Magazine’s various publications and saw him shortlisted for the Roy Fisher Prize 2011. His poem ‘Wind Farms’ will appear in the upcoming Offa’s Press ‘We’re All in This Together’ anthology. He is currently focused on his PhD in Philosophy which he works on in between being a Teaching Assistant.
Note: Samhain is pronounced “Sow” (as in a female pig)