For Christmas I wish you time to be alone
when you wish to be alone, time when you can pause
to breathe and think and say
they do not define you, this does not define you.
I wish you silence, because you wish to be silent,
not because you are silenced, human touch because
you wish to be touched, contentedly, trustingly.
I wish you Christmas dinner that doesn’t linger
on your tongue like ashes, like silt,
that doesn’t make you swell and ache
and shake and retch. Champagne and red wine
and Baileys and port that taste sweet, luxurious, not
necessary, shield-wall, bubble-wrap,
numbing gel, non-exist, cellophane.
For Christmas I wish you existence, a chance to sleep
swaddled in self.