aunts    uncles    cousins
grouped Christmas-wise
round a fruit-cake
that wore a wide red frill

the aunts' mouths
gaped shining teeth
within their jollity of lips

laughter blossomed with black-jack
which I couldn't understand
I sat on two cushions
matchsticks beside
cards in front
still too young to know

gossip-jokes clattered
until goodbyes came
and we walked four
long cold miles home
in the dark
Christmas left behind

---

Joanna M. Weston has been publishing her fiction, poetry, and reviews for twenty-five years. Her books include the middle reader Those Blue Shoes and the poetry anthology A Summer Father. Find her online.