Mom Forged Santa's Name Poem by Bryan Corbett

when I was a child
I always hated
the soft packages
under the tree
they could only mean
one thing: socks

and Santa would never
bring me such a gift
it was clearly mom's doing
and she had forged his name

I was only interested
in the wrapped boxes
the heavy ones
the ones that revealed nothing
when I would shake them
furiously
back and forth

but now with age
and my big toe
poking through
my tired old sock
I search
frantically
under the tree
for a poorly-wrapped
soft package
with a lovingly
forged
signature