Santa Baby: A poem by A.P. Lewis

By A.P. Lewis

Santa Baby

Eartha Kitt croons
from inside a crate of vinyl
concealed by bargain racks
of obscure t-shirts
at Sunday’s flea.

Your ear-rings well-kempt
wi/ baseball cards and letters.
They jangle like tinsel from last year’s tree.

Specs of swimming- white thru liquid,
a snow globe in slow motion

We wore similar colors
when we danced to santa baby
at 11:59
on x-mas eve

Your laughter, a bellicose old man’s
and I’m a harlequin

We laugh off our grace in the kitchen mirror,
more wildlife pics in national geographic.

I’m from Carlisle,
and you’re from Abilene.

We dance to santa baby somewhere
in-between.

When you dommed in San Diego
I packed books at an overnight factory.

Away in the manger-
the gypsy cab, the bill collector,
the landlord’s daughter,
a nativity obscene.

Now it’s snowing constantly;
Now it snows constantly.


‘Santa Baby’ is from the forthcoming No Variation on the Old Theme.
A.P. Lewis is born in Philadelphia in 1976.

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