Christmas

I strode out
in the night
to cut down a young spruce
and steal its moonlit heart.

The snow glinted
and my axe-edge keen.
Tearing away at bark skin
like a ravenous dog.
I do not know how
to use an axe.

In long folds it came away.
And i lifted the heart of the young man
to the sky
where it hung
and bled.

Each of my careful footsteps back
was stained red with
my betrayal.
Each of my tears frozen
hard and stinging my cheeks.

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