There's a picture in the hope chest
or in a box buried beneath
a pile of unworn clothes at
the end of Mom's bed;
there's a picture somewhere
of me decked out in
purple floral footed pajamas
And in this picture, which must
have been taken one Christmas
night-
my hair slicked and wet and ponytailed,
in this picture I'm sitting
in front of a tree that
Dad chopped down.
a tree intricately and precisely decorated,
a tree with one strand of tinsel
on each and every branch,
a tree from the days we still used
the big bulbs of every color
that begged to burn your house down.
In this picture,
in front of that tree,
in floral footed purple pajamas-
I'm smiling.
This year there is no picture.
This year there was no Christmas.