INCOGNETO

Christmas day,
we treat as the coming of god
wrappers, bags, ribbon
a steady decent from overstimulation
dark, muddy snow
dirt caked storefronts
those bright vulnerable eyes
subject, down the road, to an intruder
not a friend, mr.incogneto, with his claws, and elven grip
tears away the red itchy velvet
hot and itchy, stupefying with
the rejection of innocence, our innocence, 
our innocence
a candle burns out
Rudolf's nose, leads the way
a Red Shift
and we are born.


-Bradford Peyton