Tonight revisitsChristmases past, raises ghoststo crack those old jokesabout Des O’Connor, drop
invisible eggsinto brown paper bags, slapand tickle past-livesout of fireside slumber. Drive
the thought of trafficout of our minds, enter litdark, the half-hush, takeour places and give ourselves
over to the balmof nostalgia. We oweourselves these pleasures,after so much else, the sweets
also, tucked awayin your pocket. As the lightsslip behind the timeand our hands fumble their way
back to each other,for tonight, at least, we canand will believe, seeEric and Ernie, risen
like sun on a dawnfrost, dovetailing as neatlyas they always did,surfing ripples and echoes.
About the author:
Completed shortly before his death in May 2021, Owen Lowery’s warm and generous The Crash Wake and Other Poems (Carcanet) memorialise the fragility and strength of life, the…
