Broken Ornaments

She pulls a box from the attic
each December. The cold surrounds her

wasted horde full of reminders of family
who never knock on the door anymore.

She takes care to unwrap
each ornament, spread glass & plastic

across a dining room table
where no guests will find a seat.

Each ornament, a slow dream
of many failures at love. Stained

glass snowflakes will hang over
a sea of newspaper stacks & junk mail.

She has no one to whom to give a gift
except the man she passes every Sunday

near her church, who sleeps
beneath cardboard blankets.

The tissue paper which gains
new holes each year, will survive

to be reused at the end of Christmas,
even for the broken ornaments

she will hurl
at the fireplace.