by Ed Higgins
you say? In the chimney of course.
The lard-arsed ol'bastard struggling
soot-faced and yelling like a Salvation
Army bellringer for seasonal attention,
waking the whole damn sleeping house.
Rudolf shining his nose-red lamp
down the flue at his struggling boss
barely suppressing a snicker
wondering if the old grog-soused fart
just hasn't had too many cookies
and tippled too much candy cane schnapps!
All rights reserved.
A slightly revised version of a poem published a couple of years ago in a season-theme issue of Danse Macabre . If you don’t already know Danse Macabre look them up, a fine venue for fiction, poetry, art, and more.