Green
and gold nôels, red
paper, blue and curled
silk bows. Harsh tremor of
relationships concealed, generations of
love, joy and irritations controlled, wrapped
in finery of once-a-year robes. So now tear them
off! Reveal the naked gift, wind it up, move its wheels,
click its clocky things, flap its fragile wings, smell perfumes
of unvisited boutiques, scan pictures on the pages of books you
will never read from tangential friends and rels that shelved are neat.
Gifts of the season,
wrapped in perfection
tell how things might
be if we lost weight
did not drink,
spent less time
at work, were
different –
drastically –
bathed in
perennial nôels amid the plasticry
of a snowclad summer
Christmas tree from Coles!
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