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.
