Christmas in New Hampshire
By Jennifer Gordon
QuailBellMagazine.com
QuailBellMagazine.com
Your heavy remembered gentleness
Flood and surround me
With but a few pretty
Little thoughts
Slowly gathering inside my head
Happiness was when I first saw you
It was winter
And all I could manage to do
Was walk away
You were me
A picture of tragedy
And no one seemed to know
Your real name
You always thought
I hated you
The manic gray light of a
New Hampshire winter
Kisses my face
on Christmas Eve
Only the dead can describe me
In your words
And sing the ballad of my face
As well as you can
The faint smell of alcohol
On your breath
Dancing its way
Across my skin as I sleep
Your rumpled bed sheets
From the time you slept
Next to me
I have too much pride
To confess that
This is all I remember
Jennifer was born a strange, pale, and quiet child, a ghost scared of ghosts....Originally from new Hampshire, she studied acting at The New Hampshire Institute of Art. She grew up to become an actress, magician's assistant, artist, writer, dancer, and muse.She currently haunts lonely places in Ohio, though she is not dead.
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