Christmas away from home -
I haven’t sent any Christmas cards.
Christmas trees feel offensive - like they want something from me
Standing proudly in 40 degree heat, obnoxious.
As life flipped me on its head,
Months don’t taste the same,
When you’re walking to the beach in December
For enjoyment.
Time feels non definitive
Silly, a play pretend.
Not sure where to put a pin in my existence
As people waft, convincingly, to Christmas parties
The word, a little electric shock to where I am and where I am not.
I forget - knowingly - that I will not be
in my front room on the 25th December
And that stings
I will be on a beach in a red bikini on a Wednesday - that does not.
Suspended between festivities
Where nothing feels familiar
Like playing Christmas music in July - wrong. Except,
Both are true,
It is July and it is Christmas.
I cover one eye so I can see each of them
One at a time
Unconvinced of their togetherness
Christmas in July Sydney.