Christmas party in Lisbon

Christmas Party In Lisbon

Plenty of food cakes and ale, big flat, two tables
sat in the living room one for us elderly and one
for the young; bright eyed, slim and beautiful.
How I envied them. On my table they spoke of
real estate, who’s died, and great poets of yore.
Drank too much, thought of my sister, ten years
ago, christmas eve, since she left us. On the way
home there had been a traffic accident, fast car
split open, white sheet over the driver, a hand
stuck out, a manicured one, not one for doing
dishes after supper; I thought the hand moved,
told a rescue worker, he said; “body’s headless.”
Coming home the house was cold and gloomy,
I remembered mirth, bright eyes and my wish.