Friday, November 19, 2010


One Christmas Eve
When Santa got too merry,
He fell off the pogo stick
(or so we were told).

Strange holiday, indeed.
Like snowflakes melting
Into streaks across
A muddy street.

Grandma died at
The Five and Dime
While next in line
For lay-away.

Sweet smells of almond cookies
and pungent whiffs of pine

Andy died in a fire
On New Year's Day
(smoke hung thick
in the frosty air.)

Pretty papers, pretty lights,
All shimmering in the night.

Grandpa died around
Black Friday
(which is why I never
understood the phrase.)

Silent nights
So holy bright
(if only the drummer boys
would be quiet.)

Strange holiday, indeed.
Like the slick and icy hue
Of snow bathed red against
The sun on Winter's eve.