From Peterborough northwards, pin-sharp air
snipes in through a window gap.
Outside there's whiteout, snow shin-deep
while in here, a technical glitch
has frozen hot drinks from the trolley.
The woman swears, buys miniature gin
and frowns at her copy of Heat.
Opposite, the boy's mouth tightens as he taps on Facebook,
until boredom, like a shark's fin, breaks the surface with a sigh.
Ripples lap his mother's chin, tilting it upwards.
'Pack it in,' she snaps. 'For the last time, pack it in.'
Eileen Jones lives in Tynedale and is the editor of The IRON Book of New Humorous Verse.
Winter is the title poem of a pamphlet of her own poetry, due in September 2013 from Red Squirrel Press. A full collection of her poems is due from IRON Press in 2014. She has a short story in the forthcoming anthology, Root (IRON Press, ed. Kitty Fitzgerald).
Her play, Knives was produced by New Writing North in 2006.
Follow the link for a list of other Poems of the Month.
Winter © 2013 Eileen Jones: used with permission.
Copyright of this poem remains with the poet: please do not download or republish without permission.