Sifting like snow, like sugar, powdered, on pancakes, on roads leading home. 

Resisting, the effort, the sweet, the coating upon black ice, terrified. A ride around the block without studs.

It’s church

and Christmas eve

sugar coated people in distress

a candle

a crucifix

party clothes

new shoes

visions of sugar plums dancing

while children under the blood red sky cry

Silent night, holy night

carve the turkey, while children cry for daily bread

and men in stark nakedness lay on streets of stench alone, behind barrels of trash.

Silent night, holy night

the light from yonder window breaks

a manger, a king, a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes

Sifting me in the pew


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