Boxing Day

And in the red corner,
behind the tree,
is
a stack of packaging going to the ceiling
a sure sign from above
of our desperate attempts to
show our love.

But when my son’s
remote wookie thingy
whips back there
narrowly avoiding the tree
that tumbling tower
falls and buries me.

I lie there shocked
in immobility with my sole
company a furry, shattered toy.
My silly fault it wasn’t still whole.

You’d think cardboard, rigid plastic, twist ties and styrofoam
wouldn’t weigh in so heavily
but all my limbs they’re pinning.
My mouth threatened with packing peanuts.
I can do nothing.

After hours,
though likely twenty minutes,
I hear a shout and then I hear
the footfalls of loved ones on the carpets.

They huff and they puff
and they pull
my feet out and I manage,
to cheers as deserved as after any marathon session,
to drag myself into a chair
none the worse for reflection.

With them all there
smiling at me
I realize
that the rescue and communion
was happiness to my eyes.

Happier than what arises
from our excess. It was then that my heart
felt like it grew several Seuss sizes.

It’s the time.
I shook my smiling head.
Just the time.


intro

About tgrignon

I came I saw I rented the DVD
This entry was posted in Miscellany and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Boxing Day

  1. Pingback: Twelvetide Silliness coming: run for the hills! | Golbing

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