Some mornings he seemed so distant,
More distant than a polar bear in the kitchen.
During the night it had snowed.
When she kissed him she could smell
Burnt toast smoke clinging in his beard.
She breakfasted a satsuma instead.

Outside the snow continued to fall,
More snow until it was deep water.
There were three steaks of salmon in the fridge.
She dug her fingernails into the satsuma skin
Whilst her polar bear looked on snow and
Their neighbour coming through the weather.

Long like a sunset, he carried a sack, thinking,
Like an early Father Christmas to the house.
And the three salmon problem had been solved.
And he greeted them with a voice like a felt zoo
And then rolled a watermelon across the table.
Across the snow his footprints snaked like and and and and ands…


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