The Window Scratchers by Iseult Healy


Cheekbones scratch my window
purple tongues receive no blessed bread
not enough life even for snot

I turn away

Not today

Eyelashes flutter the glass 
big brown eyes melt as they die
limbs watered to waste

I turn away

The queue at my window is growing
sisters with shredded vaginas 
heart-ripped mothers 
child-torn fathers 
smear the glass

Not today

Let me have my fire
on this day
Let me have my dinner and wine
on this day
Let me have my friends
on this Christmas Day

Tomorrow I will clean the windows

About the contributor

Iseult is published in Fredericksburg Literary Arts Review (USA); A New Ulster Anthology (NI); OfiPress (Mexico), Boyne Berries (Ireland), Spilling Cocoa over Martin Amis, Rats Ass Review (USA), Panoma Valley Review (USA), and Hidden Channel, Sligo, Ireland. She holds her teaching licentiates in drama from the Royal Irish Academy in Dublin and the London College. Iseult is a member of Poets Abroad, Ox Mountain Poets, Sandy Fields and A New Ulster groups.

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