Home >> Volume 4, Issue 02

Nativity Scene

Lee Evans

Come sweet death,
I whispered as I dozed off
Amid the bustle:
Tinsel on the Christmas tree
Twinkled below the ceiling.

I faded away,
Head lain back on the sofa
Like John the Baptist’s
Severed from its prophesies
Balled up like wrapping papers.

My Soul ascended
Where nobody knew its Name—
Into the night sky,
Where Stars caroled hiddenly
Of superessential Jesus.

The Magi approached
Across the living room floor,
And the thatched roof groaned
With the weight of the shepherds
Who leaned down to gawk at me.

Who were the wild men
Emerging from the darkness
At the back of the stable,
Where the television snarled
Like a wasp nest in your hands?

Nobody missed me—
Or knew I had gone back home.
No doubt they were sure
I lay bound in swaddling clothes,
Like the doll in the manger.