December 31, 2011

Cemetery Santa

Thirty years on
my father's stone
leans, his side of the hill
in a thousand-year slide.
Here and there
festive markers
invite a passing Santa
to drop in for the party,
if he's not already
in a hurry to somewhere,
driving by, on the way
home from Macy's,
his lap still warm,
his bag empty,
but still, his head full
of need, his own
children waiting.