Christmas Eve

between the sirens serenity

not as bright as my phone

full moon

Where did it come from, this premonition that someday I will be parted from my head?

the trees must store these shadows
somewhere deep

the downtrodden snow
ready to shine

shadows open
their wings

the giant
my father was

a mosquito wheal rises
on my bald head

moon on ice
that emphatic
WHO-all

even the full moon isn’t
where I left it

I remember every place I’ve seen that ember