Poem: Twelve Days of Christmas

Tonight I’ve escaped
tinsel December and the clinging ghost
of childhood’s candledark morning.
Lord of Misrule, King of the Bean,
I know his domain – twelve days
of ambivalence and power,
when the dead live, and chaos
drums through the dark.
The impossible is warm in my arms.
Through torchlit hours, dusk at noon,
twelve days dance; joy
is believable, joy is now.