SILENT NIGHT

There are no airport runs
no one coming home to us.
Drive of wonder, glow of lights—

each year, we carry the biggest
tree into the house. Whiff of pine
on my hands, perfume.

Fills the space where kids
should be. Blinking color, angels
on their knees, amaryllis

about to burst. The image,
my three brothers and me,
five in the morning.

Huddled in one bedroom.
Oldest can tell time, still too early.
My father’s firm hand against the wall.

Why can’t you be like you were,
last treasure, a tangerine
in the toe of my stocking.