As a valued subscriber, you have access to a poem that didn't make the final cut for Deadly Grievances. A B-side, if you will. Enjoy, and may all your Christmases be full of good literature.
Bells and whistles and toys:
you know the story.
Delirious illusions;
the epitome of allegories.
Piano and lights and trees:
it’s all the same.
Down on my knees,
I pray to God
In distant sighs
of better times,
that it all ends.
Once, trees were green,
at least they did seem.
Now the nights are long.
I looked into the light.
With my soul on fire, I might
Just kill myself to look so neat.
I heard all the carols
Bethlehem, Hark! The Harold
So I never miss a beat.
What is it that I'm missing?
When all ornaments are hung
and from school we’re free
and all carols are sung
and me morphs into we
If there was no Christmas in December,
I don’t think I would remember
how no one was
ever there with me.
Ravishing: your simple gesture,
jealousy: too long to measure,
my feelings: just couldn’t compare.
Likenesses: come likewise,
a victim: of my own demise;
speaking out: I wouldn’t dare.
There’s so much to love on Christmas,
feelings I refuse to miss
but there’s no one to share it with.
Breached my state of grace;
one look at my face,
and I get dismissed.
Strings of power lines
are dancing in my eyes
as dreams and signs and sighs
just pass on by.
Whispering winds of watered marshes
flow in rows like marching armies
silent armies that don’t give warnings
much like cold in northern colonies.
When all ornaments are hung
and masses give their plea
and all carols are sung
and cards opened with glee
If there was no Christmas in December,
I don’t think I would remember
all the things
I didn’t see.
When all ornaments are hung
and the money gets spent
and all carols are sung
and all postcards get sent
If there was no Christmas in December,
I don’t think I would remember
That cold month of sorrow
ever again.
Artwork: Kristian Zenz