Santa hangs by scarlet threads
Beside a candle in our front-porch window.
Across the porch,
Two red, red roses--
Winter's final blooms--
Peer through their lattice,
Strewing petals one by one
Across the floor.
Roses should not blossom
In December:
Not where mountains loom
And icy winds ride frozen wings
Across the plains.
And children should not
Go to school
In mid-December
Or any other season of the year
For madmen's guns to mow them down,
Leaving Rachel crying bitter tears
For red, red blooms,
Their petals
Tossed by icy winds
Around the darkened chambers
Of her heart,
Never to be seen again.
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