A Kind of Christmas

Screaming voices a decorated tree flew
though the open French window.
In the bedroom, a woman cried, in the basement den a man
sat with a bottle of whisky, the children
sat in the living room eating sweets and waited
for the storm to blow over.
It was like this every Christmas, it was so much better
when they both went to work when the parents had a few days free
they went on each other’s nerves.
Soon the booth would come out of their rooms, shower the children
with love, the man took the tree in from the garden
and the Eve would continue