Christ in the Cupboard
In the broom cupboard, swaddled in dusters, Susan enacts the nativity, kneels by Stovepolish tins and mechanical sweepers, , Clear-voices a carol, tuneful but shapeless, Returning to no repeated form—endless, like Streams to the end of the landfall of childhood.
Jesus, tiny among the beasts and tins of Zebo, Cannot eat Christmas cake : it makes him sneeze. Mary and Joseph, bothered, watch from the mop- rack (That's Joseph, the tufty one. 0, poor Mary, Nowhere to lie while the star burned). Come Shut the door, for the child's voice makes for her, Makes Christ, in the cupboard : out here in the kitchen, Leaf-matted yard, under the bare bough-sticks beyond Could we not even call Christ in vain From the year's night's brief day's sky.
DAVID HOLBROOK
Previous page
