Nan wishes for snow
so she can welcome a world of spilled milk. She will blemish it with petals;
stretch the scrag of her neck. Feel it flaked with crystals, each drift of them
a test of the Almighty’s skill. Hear the first of its fall, far away; collect
the sound in skin-soft scoops. There, she will sigh, detecting the little pliffs.
Here it comes. Her udder tucked, pink and cold – worth the exposure to be
outside, on untouched acres, begging for first foot. The sound will be the gentle
ring of Christmas – the land will wake, robin will clutch the fencepost, blink
his blackberry eye. She will reach her tongue, imagine tasting his cardinal stain;
smile, a split of snaggle-tooth, laugh of underbite. Ugly yet radiant in the dawn.
Jane Burn is a writer and artist who was originally born in Yorkshire but has lived in the North East for the last twenty years. Her poems have been published in a variety of magazines, including Butcher’s Dog, Obsessed With Pipework, The Black Light Engine Room Magazine and will shortly appear in the Rialto.Her work has also appeared in anthologies from The Emma Press and Kind of a Hurricane Press. Jane’s first pamphlet, Fat Around the Middle was published in 2915 by Talking Pen.