On London Bridge on Hallowe’en by J.E.A. Wallace

I was being followed by The Ghost of Christmas Past
Until I turned and enquired ‘What are you doing?’

He shrugged 
                       I awoke
                                     (sound of twisting bone under his threadbare cloak)

‘Now look here, my good fellow,
you know it’s not even December.’

He said 
              No, but it will be soon
                                                     (teeth grinning orange like a fat low moon)

I thought of New Year’s Resolutions as I hobbled home
Being followed by The Ghost of Christmas Past

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J.E.A. Wallace has been a hotel night porter, an abattoir security guard, and a barman in The House of Lords. Born and raised in England, he now lives and writes in New York City.

His first poetry collection “Are You Hurtling Towards God Knows What?” is available now from Unsolicited Press.