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.