Mine looked odd,

completely out of place.

 

Being kind you might have said unique,

the teacher called it a one off

and said it was in the nature

of a piece of work that was mine,

that it resembled me

not exceptional or exclusive

but something quite…

rare, unusual…go on I thought

daring the words out loud,

call me peculiar, after all my

Battenberg Angel was certainly that

in amongst the dazzling white fairies

constructed by the other members

of my class just before Christmas 1981.

 

Red and black squares surrounded the skirt,

she had said be creative, use your imagination

to let the angel for the top

of the Christmas Tree at home stand out…

I made her stand out, no saintly trip,

that skirt hiding a multitude of sins,

she was abnormal, a garish mistake…

…peculiar,

but in a room full of pure white angels

mine was certainly the most colourful

and her red hair shone in the rays

of the sun that danced

through the December windows

of Moor Green School

and that same Battenberg squared angel,

danced for years, long after,

I had lost my love for Christmas,

on top of my mother’s tree,

Battenberg skirt flowing

with a pine needle tickling

where the sun don’t shine.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016