Salty Christmas
By: Lee Brandon

A peppermint espresso on the desk,

And forty noisy watts above my head;

A feeble workshop now an abstract mess,

I stand amidst it all, a silhouette.

With scissors flapping on and on and on,

A tear rolls down my cheek and to the lips;

I taste the tear and a phenomenon

Flies through my neck and breaks me at the hips.

I’m shaken by its seasoned salty taste,

And yet continue forcing St. Nick’s niche;

The tear like Sodom’s people fornicates

With my saliva like it was its bitch.

My tongue was taken on this Christmas Eve,

My throat stood by to watch the crying thief.