In the shit-filled cave
inside
But there's no sign of
a comet or
Falling star coming
To obliterate the
dark.
They call holidays an option for a reason...
It's cold.
A house in schism.
They're only taking
women and children in the shelters.
There's a warm glow on
the hearth,
And tears running down
cheeks
Songs, jingle bells.
A flush on cheeks,
warm greetings
And raised voices
Everything is red and
green.
Envy and greed
And hope deferred.
I wanted...
My stomach twists and
I have
Trouble breathing
This year has got to
be different.
You come home and then
you go home.
Are these birth pains
or some game of throes
Shaking life
withdrawal-like,
Another year dies
homeless body on ice.
The red ribbon marks
our sacred wounds, knots inside
The evergreen sucks
life but it's done and gone.
An advent waiting for
it all to be over.
Lights stretch a
constellation along
The gossiping eaves of
each house
Where the ghosts of
Christmases past
Remind us of abuse,
embarrassment, dashed hopes, and
The tinsel bite of
arguments
Passed along like old
fruitcake.
The commercial
promises--vanity,
Holidays are about
family,
Oh how I love thee,
let me keep the
For Christ's sake,
Count the divorces.
Comfort and joy,
Not for us on the
outside.
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