Draft
Jesus Brings Green Jello to Dinner
He is very late. Later even than crazy great-aunt Margaret,
who's bringing World War II guns as presents this year.
The kids have fallen asleep after asking for gifts all afternoon.
Uncle Bill is drunk on eggnog, singing Frosty the Snowman.
Cousin Alice fought with her latest boyfriend.
He stormed off. She locked herself in the bathroom.
My brothers smoke a joint in the driveway.
Ma and I bicker in the kitchen over Grandma's
stuffing recipe and the now dry turkey.
When the doorbell finally rings, the sleeping children and dogs erupt,
and there he is, all smiles and apologies.
"Here, I brought you something," he says,
extending a wobbly green mold, celery bits suspended inside.
Ma and I accept it graciously, we hope, already knowing
it will remain untouched.
No comments:
Post a Comment