Olga Dermott-Bond, Christmas lights

Christmas lights

December. The old moon is raked clean and spare,
milked surface brimming with light, the night sky full
with glass-glow, stars scattered far, like the last leaves
curled, forgotten on the empty branches of small hours.
We forget to look up, try to sew our own silver
lights, hemmed clumsily underneath rooftops,
each window cluttered with a calligraphy of wires,
wreaths, like pleading hands, are prayerless.

Wreaths, like pleading hands, are prayerless,
each window cluttered with a calligraphy of wires,
lights hemmed clumsily underneath rooftops,
we forget to look up, try to sew our own silver,
curled forgotten, on the empty branches of small hours
with glass glow. Stars scatter far, like the last leaves,
milked surface brimming with light, the night sky full.
December. The old moon is raked clean and spare.

Olga Dermott-Bond is originally from Northern Ireland and was the winner of the BBC Proms poetry competition in 2019. Her first pamphlet apple, fallen was published by Against the Grain Press. She was selected as one of the emerging poets on Radio 4 for Bedtime Stories for the End of the World, and has been widely published in a range of magazines, including Under the Radar, Magma, Rattle Magazine, Butcher’s Dog, Cordite Review, Paper Swans Press, and anthologies including The result is what you see today (Smith/Doorstop) and Beyond the Storm (Write out Loud). She is a teacher in a secondary school in Warwickshire and has two daughters. @olgadermott

Read more of Olga’s Christmas poetry here.

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