Christmas

Ridges fade softly, delicately into corners

A mystery, impenetrable

Rip off

And still shedding light

People tell me you are a cheap take on a classic

But you’ve always been beautiful to me

A mess compressed into shirts

Backlit stories of softer times

Flowers folded out of metal

Switches on a baseline

I’ve always wanted to win

Burning dust, something sleeping

A mumbled insight

Think about that!

Soft notes butchered. Static.

Oatmeal burnt to the bottom of my favorite pan

Mothballs. Broken Glass.

Drunken laughter, tiny lights.

Percussion plays pots and pans

Vacuum cleaners that jam.

Paintings of shoes.

Leather purses click click click.

A miracle.