Christmas Morning


Christmas Nightmare by Marc Gutierrez

When you wake to Christmas morning, wait.
Creep back into your dream and pause there
Before the brace of bells and bustle,
The passion pageants at the mall,
The new hem lines of tradition,
The sinister shine of snow.
From the skim of conspiratorial carols
You already hear and the celebrated season
Of comedy and cheer, dive down below:
The ordinary night of your ordinary self
Alone. Everything else, with thought, precipitates out
To leave you yourself cauterized inside.
It’s in those dark depths beneath the skim of your senses
That might appear a bawl and gasp
Serrated, strange,
Like a single acrid plum-colored wisp;
Then angels: one, more, many more,
Like doppler sirens treading the surrounding hills.
And then you are a trillion people
Receiving each other on this day of days.


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