Two Poems

WRITING A CHRISTMAS CARD

I raid old messages.
We haven't talked for two years.
Shall I send the card with the tree,
or the circlet of roses?

The white jumper you gave me
from Oxfam. Pure wool,
at a time when the unemployment
figures were chalked up
outside the Town Hall.
A stain on the front.
But you said: 'It doesn't show
when you talk.'

I talked to you.
While you busied yourself
with the new microwave.
The flowers in your room
...