Sleep-ins foil good intentions

As the sun gives rise and

servitude to Christmas Day

I flick the kettle on and spy

The sacrificial honeyed ham

In an overloaded fridge

That strains to cool the

Offerings that hours later

Will fill a lace tablecloth

And the good plates

And the Tupperware

And landfill

And…

My spiral into chaos

Is caught by a ringtone

On the house phone

Giving rise and promise

With eager small talk

A trademark exchange of

Familiar voices rejoicing

And ‘passing you on’ –

The result of years of

Love not habit, that

You’d be forgiven

For thinking was obligation

Not heartfelt desire

On the day of too full

Bellies expanding on family

Marking off another year

Of unspoken, blinding fear

That despite the odds

And by diplomatic virtue

Adoringly refine and

Endearingly define us.