Clair Chilvers

Cheltenham, UK

Clair Chilvers was a cancer scientist. She has had poems published in print and online journals. Her first collection is forthcoming (Frosted Fire 2021). www.clairchilverspoetry.co.uk. twitter@cedc13

Written 4th December 2020

A Christmas

Advent in the cathedral

dark except for the flicker of candles

choristers in red robes, socially distanced

No mulled wine in the cloisters
where monks once studied
fingers numbed by the bitter draught

The olive-wood-carved nativity stands desolate
at the cancelled crib service
missing the children’s awe-struck glances

The angels wings and shepherds crooks
stay on the storeroom shelves this year
as we hover uneasily at school gates

But at home the silver tree 
unopened presents at its foot
still shimmers in the dawn light

On the hearth a half-eaten mince pie,

an empty sherry glass
the old woollen sock full of presents

Later, the detritus of the feast
a turkey carcase, discarded sprouts
crumbs of the once flaming pudding

A thimble, a tiny screwdriver
abandoned among torn crackers
with their tasteless jokes

Children up before dawn are tired now
adults a little drunk drowse by the fire
relieved that it is nearly over

Marked by absence,
thank-you kisses replaced by zoom calls
jollity muted by the plague

Epiphany marks the end

the Magi bring their gift
of vaccine