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Dec 2016
The Holy Family?
In a box
with the angels upstairs

Shepherds?
In search of their sheep
lost in newspaper

Somehow I sit on a bag...
     of glass Christmas *****
“Must get my vacuum!”
That dead animal, coated by dust
and buried in laundry--
has tangled itself in its own cord
and tumbled headlong to the basement

Crooked photos of daughters
watch me...
smiling (Can it be?)
from a hundred miles and years away?
Waiting for me to make
that miracle again--
What moms do at Christmas

Phone rings
    “Jing-a-ling, are ya listening?”
     It's the bill collector's recorded
     “This is inexcusable!” message
      Charities are legion
      I say, “There is a line”

Later--
seen only by the peaceful stars...
the donkey of Bethlehem
stumbles in-- laden with groceries
dumping them on the bed/couch
...and back outside for the next load
...and back to the bed again
Why bother making it?
Not as if the cat cares
He likes his blankets niched and lumpy
Not as if some modern home magazine's
planning a photo-shoot!

The mailbox, meanwhile
is preggers  with glossy catalogues
...and bills...and
“Wouldn't your whole family enjoy a sunroom?”

Dropping the bags
searching for a light
turning up the heat--
     gas bill
     sewer bill
     “Tis the season for a new Toyota!”
I try to understand the point
of a Christmas card with printed signature
Can I stuff myself in with the recycling?

Then, back outside for the single-woman drama
     “Hauling in the Tree”
Storm door catches the hem of my coat
Pine needles, leaves, snow and mud
mark the end of the trail

On my belly twisting screws
       “Son-of-a-******* tree stand!”
Knocking my daughter's picture off the wall
       “Serves 'er right fer laughin!”
**** thing's crooked and dripping
with melted snow

It's 8:30 PM

The cat is hungry and crying
I hit the bottom-- and the button
for the background of a human voice
Three naked chickens are waiting on the counter

At some point, I will take off my coat...

Right now--
I drink a beer while standing

To get a better view....
I'm sure there are more than a few parents among us poets, trying to make the holidays merry and memorable for their families despite the ongoing demands of work, loneliness, loss and the season swirling around us.  It can be pretty hectic.  Some will struggle more than others.  This poem is for them.
Written by
L B
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