Starving for Christmas
Noses press against storefront windows
and gawk. We watch stars stuff our sorrow
into glib sayings and sitcom outcomes.
But, in truth,
streets still bustle with beggars,
desperate hands outstretched.
Souls starve on golden calves of
Ears strain to hear the
clink, clink coin of hope.
Unwrap gods, religion or man,
they disappoint our empty expectations.
We are starving for Christmas.
Christmas arrived. God, in plain garments,
pudgy cheeks and dependent
flesh. God, sucked in the
the first stale breath of humanity and loved us.