Christmas Poem

Christmas Poem

we drive up the mountain

to a white Christmas

summer rain fogs the windshield

& I’m reminded of why I hate

Dad’s reckless driving.

winding road slippery

with motion sickness

I listen to Phoebe Bridgers’

entire discography

again. at the summit

mist tinsels slick gumtrees

smoke rises from solitary cottages

I try to catch my reflection

in their windows

at the summit

fog obscures the river

I listen to Joni Mitchell

instead of the waterfall

& I’m reminded of the poolside

susurration that lulls me

to sleep even now. I listen

to The Smiths & wonder

how long til Dad gives up

dyeing his hair. wonder

what hides among

mountain folds. among

shadows blooming

between swaying eucalypts

a little red bird

the only festivity

decorating slouching trees.

I’m wearing

a black T-shirt

and a smile

for camouflage.