Two Rivers Press wishes everyone a happy and healthy 2015 and offers this new poem.
Trick or Treat
It’s the evening when the borders between the worlds are open.
The doorbell rings: “Trick or treat, Mister,” say two little witches.
A bag of sweets stands between our walls and a swift egging.
Behind the children, a man waits in the yellow edges of a streetlamp.
We think he’s a neighbour, come with his kids. So we invite him in.
The witches set off to annoy the Singhs at number twenty-four.
“Do you remember me?” he says. We’re not sure; we say ‘of course’.
“I’ve brought you a letter. I thought you’d want me to bring it round.”
I look in the envelope – the sea at Whistling Sands is running inside it.
We’re in the bursting blue white foam that’s seething at our ankles,
coiling us, pulling us in, curling us tight inside the deep core of a wave.
This blue white spume we stored away and kept as a box of delights.
You take the envelope, look inside, look at me, tell me that it’s empty.
We’ve been so stupid. Next day he’s walking up the path in uniform.
“Hello,” we mumble. “Oh no,” I say. “He’s our relief postman.”
We laugh, half-heartedly. A ghost of a smile runs over his lips.