Abracadabra on West Forty Third – A Short Story About New Year’s Eve


Picture: Elena Caldera

The cracking -biting -grey -sick -lips of Winter
bruising the old and the poor
slapping their purple frost -bitten faces with gusts of wind
infecting cuts – drowning lesions
A river of septicaemia
The curly bob tailed boils of weeping pus
ensconced in folds of fingers and toes
And the tea coloured wheeze of a tiny tot
shivers – all alone
On the pages of glamocracy
Stylish poses in ski suits and goggles
against a backdrop of Hollywood snow, and look there’s
Father Christmas – has he avoided the old white patriarch tag
Sleighing all over town –
a rascal of elves in tow ?
Would it be wrong to criticise the monoracial scenery
of the jet set in Klosters and Courchevel ?
The world’s slopes awash with dirty white money
Michelin starred hideaways private chefs and hot tubs
golden keys to an off shore magic circle where only
the very richest of the rich are on the list
And on the resisting night of New Year’s Eve
I think of all the razzmatazz angel frosted lighted trees
candy cane tinsel dreams corrupted voices preaching austerity
A homeless girl -eyelashes jewelled by snow
her entire universe huddled close
in the black garbage bag at her feet
Her hair dusted with icy rain
Silver strands glistening like diamonds
Hope somersaults towards her
a goofy kinky haired clown
He uses the breath of a nightingale
to place a winning lotto ticket
in her petal -thin hungry hand
And the stars are freewheeling the skies
with boogaloo poetics
And fountains of love flood the streets .

-Saira Viola-


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One Response to Abracadabra on West Forty Third – A Short Story About New Year’s Eve

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