CHRISTMAS POEMS
Christmas 1984
(Dedicated to those who will spend Christmas in casts)
I reach for the clock. I mean to start its hands
Circling in counter motion.
Back, back, back I will force them--
Back to the morning of that black day.
I will start fresh--make the day mine,
Walk other streets, shun the icy corner,
Shop, go home, trim my tree.
But the people shout to me-
"Stop! Let the day be!"
"A good day. I found a friend."
"I bore a child." "I finished a task",
they cry. "A good day. Let it be."
Well then, I will keep the day.
But there are other schemes.
With glee I will twist the clock hands
To fly forward
Fast, fast, faster until they speed past
the days of my imprisonment.
But again they cry to me, "No!
Stop your foolish game!
Let the weeks be. Leave us the carols,
The holidays, the holy birth,
a Joyous New Year!"
I withdraw my hand from the clock.
I will tie a sprig of holly to my crutch.
Gift Exchange
Right there it was in Christmas red.
"Sweets to the sweet," the gift card said.
I read it out. My spouse averred
with vigor that he must have erred.
(To soothe me he was trying hard.)
"The candy should have had that card!"
For well he knew my certain shock.
"Sweets to the sweet" on a cuckoo clock?
Christmas Alone
Glitter, big red ball!
Twinkle, tip top star!
Shimmer, golden tinsel garland!
Tinkle, wee tiny bells!
My tree stands tall and bravely bright,
full branches bearing lights, the horns
the candy canes, each favorite charm,
its base awash in gaudiness of gifts.
--But where is the snowman in the yard?
--Where the stomping on the porch?
(Too far. Too icy. Too sick. Too new born.)
--I told my neighbor just this morning.
Leap, fire! Crackle, log!
Glisten, one small tear, escaped.