Cups on their hooks rattle
the train rumbles through the town
icebergs crack and fall off the roof,
they crash through two stories of chilled air.
Dad heaves himself off the sofa,
empty plate in hand.
Mother has a new electric carving knife,
the turkey is in meaty ribbons already.
The train is still rolling,
its high-pitched horn
blasting through wallpaper.
We are all a little...
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