Pellets for Christmas

The canopy of hollow paper stars
of Christmas
with coloured bulbs inside
dangles from the roof
The sky is a silly dark deep
devoid of colour of any hue
The days’ drinks
hastily drunk in secret
plot a chart of dull headache
The night’s sleep is lost
against monotonous drill of hymns
of those singing out aloud
pleading the un-hearing Gods
Certain red stars in the distant roof-tops
became the mocking signs
in letters to my father
leeching on years of sweat
Those static ominous stars
Hark! the arrival of three un-wise
the following day
displaying pellets of lead
on father’s shivering hands

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