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Choosing the Tree<\/strong><\/p>\n We diary-match till everyone is free. Two factions, both alike in certainty: a centrepiece to hang with memory We orbit, apogee and perigee, as pines. More buyers come, see two \u2013 agree \u2013 The seller drags a fresh one, and Yippee <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Maggie Butt<\/strong>\u2019s fifth collection was Degrees of Twilight (The London Magazine 2015). She teaches Creative Writing at Middlesex University and is a Royal Literary Fund Advisory Fellow. She spends Christmas with her husband, two daughters, nieces and partners. www.maggiebutt.co.uk<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n All that stuffing<\/strong><\/p>\n My Uber burrows through the slush hour sleet. I\u2019ve flown in late, gift-less, with a broken wing This car heater sucks in all the smells that belong A courier curls up like a prawn by his motorbike I\u2019d better text. You\u2019ll never forgive me, ever as if the future of love was instantly knowable, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Mark Fiddes<\/strong>\u2019 poems have been published in The Irish Times, London Magazine, Magma, Poem Magazine <\/em>and Southword<\/em>. Some you’ll find in\u00a0The Chelsea Flower Show Massacre <\/em>or\u00a0The Rainbow Factory<\/em> – both\u00a0published by Templar Poetry. He’s been awarded the Ruskin Prize, the Dromineer Festival Prize and was runner up in the Bridport Prize. Earlier this year, he had two poems shortlisted in the Keats-Shelley Prize.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Christmas Eve tea<\/strong><\/p>\n 5 o\u2019clock. Rooms flower slowly, like stars.<\/p>\n Here are steep steps, I find the Smarties tube of tuppences. In the kitchen, Cold meats, This is not a photograph – I thought life would slot My kitchen is neat and cold. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Catherine Ayres<\/strong> is a teacher from Northumberland. Her debut collection, Amazon<\/em> was published in 2016 by Indigo Dreams.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Choosing the Tree We diary-match till everyone is free. In scarves and gloves and hope we mobilise for yearly quest to find the perfect tree. Two factions, both alike in certainty: one favours sculptural, the trunk on show, the other fulsome, dense-green, thickety, a centrepiece to hang […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[97],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18026","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-twelve-days-of-christmas-2018"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18026","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18026"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18026\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18109,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18026\/revisions\/18109"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18026"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18026"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18026"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nIn scarves and gloves and hope we mobilise
\nfor yearly quest to find the perfect tree.<\/p>\n
\none favours sculptural, the trunk on show,
\nthe other fulsome, dense-green, thickety,<\/p>\n
\nand baubles from the years with our loved-lost;
\npact with the past for future harmony.<\/p>\n
\neach specimen presented, catwalk twirled
\nwhile we assess, dispute, grow prickly<\/p>\n
\nwhile we haul out our nineteenth, needled now,
\nNot that one! Are you kidding? Can\u2019t you see?<\/p>\n
\nit hits all bases, holy grail of spruces!
\nChristmas is saved, and so is family.<\/p>\n
\nHounslow rises either side as reindeers pace
\nin arcade glitter over gables swollen with yule.
\nPrivet hedges flicker like an electrocution of elves.<\/p>\n
\nthat needs care but you will only notice a starling
\ntapping at your window, its starlit eye unclosing.
\nHurrying things are cursed with love no one sees.<\/p>\n
\nat the back of elsewhere behind ovens and bins;
\nall the human stuffing coming out for baby Jesus.
\nA plastic snowman stands where snow should be.<\/p>\n
\nat the crossing as the traffic circumnavigates.
\nTwo paramedics alight from a festive ambulance
\nin Santa hats while policemen bumble with tape.<\/p>\n
\nbecause I remember you my young sister opening
\nyour advent calendar early, only to pop back
\neach cheery doorway like none of us had noticed,<\/p>\n
\nthat Christmas was all that should ever matter.
\nBelieve that the past is no more than torn paper,
\nthen once a\u00a0 year, you can always be right.<\/p>\n
\nLight silvers the sill.
\nThis is the season of curious moons,
\nwhen we\u2019re lost in the velvet of ourselves,
\nundreaming the deep nights\u2028 between tomorrow and the past.<\/p>\n
\na hexagon of doors,
\ntwo china dogs guarding
\nthe gas fire\u2019s slapped cheeks.<\/p>\n
\nI shake the Virgin so the Holy Water swirls.
\nI am allowed to sink my face
\ninto the Sunday furs.<\/p>\n
\na clutch of pinnied women
\nmakes the china clink.<\/p>\n
\ntrifle,
\nsalad from a tin.<\/p>\n
\nit\u2019s the warm edge of the past
\nwhere the women I love
\nare still alive.<\/p>\n
\ninto a snug line
\nby the sink.<\/p>\n
\nLight silvers the sill.
\nAt the window, stars.<\/p>\n