Mary Nagy

Rookie (11-08-1970)

The Bulbs That Blind Them - Poem by Mary Nagy

Maybe it's the way the elf
is grinning...
Maybe it's the way Mrs. Claus
seems to know something I don't.
Christmas always has an aura of mystery
and a tinge of sadness.
It could be the way the bulbs
hang from the tree and effortlessly
reflect a twisted, distorted view of myself
as I search the branches for
the bulbs that may mean something...
anything,
to someone.
No matter how I turn,
I can't get away
from the carnival-mirror-like image
hiding between the strands of garland.
She mocks me
as I look at the homemade bulb
with glitter letters
that says ''Mothers Make Memories''.
I wonder if every Christmas tree
holds within it
the bulbs that blind them.


Comments about The Bulbs That Blind Them by Mary Nagy

  • (1/5/2007 11:41:00 PM)

    Yes, everywhere we look we find ourselves! A dirty little trick,
    it seems like sometimes. This is awesome, and ingenious too.
    (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 5, 2007

Poem Edited: Saturday, December 18, 2010


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