Ballad of the Cast-Off Cards Binned now, we lie beyond your slumber, beyond the fishbowl prospect afforded by your spy hole. We fell before the shrill hinge and heavy spring were wedged free open on to solemn stairs scaled by the stuffed sacks on scrawny backs, and white hands pushed into your privacy beneath the tartan nameplate. We are the ghosts of Christmas Present, … Continue reading A poem by Roy Moller