Issue 29 • December 2019

Art & Lit

Christmas Eve

Grace Mead, Tabor

two types of people

in this world-

people who think with 

conscious consequences

or people gliding, lighting 

up the slide they’re on


my feet speed in slow motion

down the neighborhood street

where everyone waves

palms brushing around 

clouds in the sky 

no snow on the ground 

and the sun tasted like mosquitos 


the houses feel like people 

them and their accomplices, 

with matching shingles 

and there i was outside 

as always in bronze 


as though the world 

trembles on a straight line

through space and time

on plandome drive

and it was christmas eve, 

so i prayed  

i would do something worthwhile. 


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