Cathartic’s Christmas (2014)

Train sets beside
the boarded window
snowflakes
infiltrate;

a draft in my face,
nearly twenty below.

This is
a dollhouse
we crawl
out from under
midnight fires, cross
white lawns
to sirens,

an evergreen
environment kindling
wanton desires,

drunken rain
dances on pyres set
to caroler
choirs of collapse.

This is
a home relapse
is religiously
implied,
its inherent
divides wrapped
gifts for
children under plastic
trees.

It makes a civilized wilderness,
savage
nativity scene,
Bethlehem of bondage where a
jobless Jesus instills the
fear of God in every
get-together.

This is the dinner
table most remember as the first they’d
like to forget,
food no one lets themselves eat,
because to reach for
the comfort would be
to aspire to
a patriarch’s
debt.

Instead, we retch,
if only to give
back what
was not ours
to take,

before
the dragon wakes and
cold has multiple
points
of entry.

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