CHRISTMAS POEM: REDUX

It’s the season, no? Merry and happy to each and every.

 

 

CHRISTMAS

 

 

let me say this much,

he says: 

i have nothing here to offer you

this christmas;  

nothing but 

the now blooming pulse  

of what  

we’ve known

this year as it leaks —  

smashed  

bottle-spilt — from the heel 

of my left hand.             

                    my tongue —

a fist — is heavy with this 

salt gift, 

with the heft of knowing that it is 

at once both 

all too much and so clearly

not  

enough.

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