Best Reimagined Poems

We sat in the fallout 
of last year’s gift exchange—
smashed angel centerpiece 
taped back together 
as good as a rogue bomb 
if someone mentioned it.

Our voices dragged
like anchors through an ocean—
low, cold, summoning something
older than Kris Kringle.
I strained to recall
a time when it wasn’t like...

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The moon risen high, over
    the burial vault of the sun
  to the accompaniment of fireworks
    from competing constellations

  ~ All this, before suppertime...

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