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Poetry #432
(published April 30, 2009)
A Christmas Story
by Alex Galper
on a new year's eve
in a snow covered forest
outside of russian city of voronezh
i was surrounded by a pack of antisemitic wolves.
in this vicious winter
a plump jew is quite a delicacy.

a freudian american within:
"don't worry! it's just your imagination!
there are no werewolves in the 21st century
it's all in your head, just symbols
the first predator is an Ideal Woman
the second—Closeted Homosexual
the third—Our Lord GOD
let them feast on your flesh
and you'll be saved!"

but a russian commoner shouts within:
"fuck this bullshit!
my clean picked frame
won't be found till spring!"

grabbing a log
i swung wildly left and right
at the fanged metaphors
fucking them up so badly
till they ran
tail between their legs, nursing their wounds.

my apologies
for ruining their holiday supper.
but in an hour
i was having fun
at a party
until someone joked
about my beastly wolfish appetite.

Translated by Misha Delibash.

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