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Christmas Eve’s finest sin~
a bowl left out,
a dash of gin
mixed with cream
and nutmeg dust.
Chester the squirrel placed
his tiny paws
around the bowl,
tipped it with drunken swoon,
licking the rim with reckless glee.
One sip, two—then thirty-two.
Why is the tree spinning around me?
His cheeks grew rosy;
his tail unspooled.
He hiccupped and wobbled,
declaring himself
"King of Forestown,"
tried to wrestle a lawn gnome
for crimes against
his newfound throne.
By dusk the fence post
wore a Cheshire grin.
The oak tree swayed
like ocean waves.
He misjudged a leap~
(oh gravity!)~
clung to a branch like a wind-tossed leaf,
whispering who moved the sky?
His tail, once crisp as autumn’s snap,
dragged like a half-hearted flag.
The stars, he swore,
were almonds~
if only he could crack…
Dawn found him curled up
in last year’s nest,
dreaming of
nutmeg, cinnamon
and dizzy flight~
while the world
spun, spun, and spun.
Paste a face your audience can lick up,
Stretch a smile over your wrinkles of laughter
and sadness
Breathe deep like your first bong hit,
Now...
Plead to heaven, erasing the nearest circle of
Hell on your heart
Find groups of pregnant classes on marriage
And little, healthy babies...
Write down how well you know jelly beans
Is what your spouse likes..
Bring a story to your mind..be it barefoot
Or slippers on Thanksgiving evening,
fat and tired; or drinking wine
Near a trimmed tree,
carols and egg nogged babble.
Paste a face your audience can lick up,
Smile and give your gravy time to
Underachieving sweaty sisters in law
And brothers on sobatical.
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