the orange candle
the handle on the coffee cup and
the shine of the tea pot, of the glossiness
of the mince pie is telling me something
i want to hear very great things
at jesus' birth i need bright things
and i ought to no better by now because
i have stopped going to church since
every year at church, at midnight
my sight is burned by lanterns and
candles and my ears hurt by trumpets and
i think... no
no... you wouldn't do that for a baby
a baby needs quiet and so i
a baby's only message is a breast
and mine is one burning orange candle
and a steaming slice of mince pie