754 Readings

I’m All Out Of Practice

The candy canes hurt.
I hurt them.
Their necks, isn’t it obvious,
are fragile specs of sugar.
They snap like songbirds.
Love nest. 
They say this is nesting.

My daughter
still in the belly
fights me,
is already hurting me
because I am in love
& over-extending myself
to decorate the Christmas tree
to vacuum the dust bunnies
to fold her small clothes.

It’s early in December
when four girls show up
while I’m at the hairdresser
at 3pm.
I take the shears
from the 22-years-old’s apron
& cut myself bangs mid-verse.

My hairdresser, who is terrifically moved
by the lyrics, wouldn’t do it otherwise.
“Your face is all wrong.”
One of the carolers looks at me
like the stranger I am
& flips her long ironed hair
while belting above the others, 
infant so tender & mild.

I look at my crooked face
in the mirror & join in
even though I don’t want to.
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Shepherds like me quake all night.
Even though I don’t want to
I am clapping & smiling
looking for a dollar.

Posted 12/15/15
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