He was the best ever Christmas gift,
slid in and under the wiry tree
whose needles fell like starched thread.
Baubles bobbed on branches, the softest
oyster pink and baby blue. Bottle green
and ketchup red, though sparsely hung
they did their best.
He was rigid, a matte emerald
with a sliver of silver
coiled at the tip, his feet encased
in a hub. I lifted him out in awe.
Questions in coloured orbs
made a perfect circle
a surround for a scooped out hollow.
On the other side a little mirrored pond
for Magic Robot to stand. I placed him
at his station, with his outstretched hand
and put him to work, on his little
mirror, all Christmas without a break
until he protested and disappeared,
among all the debris of our childhood.
Bio: Lorraine Carey is an Irish poet and artist from Donegal, now living in Kerry. Her poems have featured in the following ; Ariel Chart, The Blue Nib, Atrium, The Honest Ulsterman, Vine Leaves, The Galway Review, Quail Bell, Proletarian, Olentangy Review, A New Ulster, Stanzas, ROPES, North West Words, Picaroon and Sixteen and is forthcoming in Laldy, Launchpad and The Runt Zine. Her artwork has featured in Three Drops From A Cauldron, Dodging the Rain and Riggwelter Press. Lorraine’s debut collection – From Doll House Windows, is published by Revival Press.