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This poem up on Thanksgiving Eve for the Bookstains Poetry Challenge— a wonderful blog, a wonderful idea– to write a poem about some facet of Charles Dickents/his work– and terrific responses.

Humbugged

“(S)he will make a lovely corpse.”

Charles Dickens

Bearing a heavy-hearted grudge
Against the entire season
I apply my will
To this dust
These autumnal remnants
Filling the corners–
Tess the Golden’s dandelion fuzz
from her perennial shedding
Leaf-chaff, thin needles
From the alpine fir
Fugitive Juniper berries,
bits of ant bait
Chips of rock salt

A wren could build a nest
from this much
Or some Dickensian mop-hatted
Red-cheeked street-walker
Comb through it for the pennies
Trapped there
If ten cents even got a glance
From the Salvation Army worker
Calling out “Alms for the blind…”
On the corner

So it is that on Thanksgiving Eve
Dragging my bad leg
From room to room
I vacuum, cursing:
I would walk the streets singing
Without qualm if I could
which takes me to the plight,
The Twist of my days & nights:
(“A cripple for life!” he cried
From a masterpiece)

I curse my lot
And falter, sitting down
Sipping a cup of shame
Laced with marked down hazelnut
Creamer: I forgot

That I have a house
To fill with leaves and light
And nests of dust.

copyright Jenne’ R. Andrews 2010

Permission granted to repost on Bookstains…

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