mint & mutton chops



the winter night grabs the mike

yew friends what’s your friends’ name?

now as the Yule log burns the question reappears outside

yew number please and not even please


and there is glad dispensation at the camp in Yuletide

a fat hand in the turkey doles out stuffing

with a running conversation in a foreign tongue wagging

like her stuffed behind as it lumbers through

camp HQ