The Night before Christmas 1978

The corridor to the morgue is wide and empty, and softly lit.
And this bearded old man, burdened with presents
desperately searches for the door marked restaurant.
Then I see her, small and heavy like a tiny battle ship,
her radar hand scanning her cargo
of two hundred and seventy delicate bones.
In a buff envelope tied with green twine is an x-ray
of two spiny aliens, one slotted inside the other
both dependent on a pelvic anchor.
Her smile is much like my wife’s and I am grateful
she does not know what I do. Or how glad I am
to feel her child respond to the touch of my palm.


Wishing all my readers Happy Holidays.

©Natalia Spencer 2015

This Poem, first appeared on The Poetry Shed.  Go read more excellent poems.
Thank you Abegail Morley.


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