One More Frost
In this final winter,
home to a vacant house
in mourning style,
with ice on the sale sign.
unlit, but heated
by neighbourly care,
still it is voiceless.
A card for Christmas,
fallen on the floor,
postmark from Pennsville:
a cousin, not too close,
who has yet to hear
the slow march of long men
sounding in the night.
Our neighbours we know
and the fields are familiar.
but I name my navigators
among the departed.
The distance taken –
measureless in miles –
is nothing against the dust.
Geoffrey Heptonstall contributed to previous editions in 2012 and 2013. He is a poetry reviewer for The London Magazine, and writes regular commentaries on politics and culture for Open Democracy. Recent creative work includes work with several fringe theatre companies, as well as a regular stock of poetry, fiction and essays.