Poetry

Christmas in Gawler

Aidan Coleman

We pass the cave-glow

of a hundred front rooms,

to the place where a pine tree

lights the first star.

 

It's Christmas also down by the river,

where ice-cream van carols

pour into the darkness.

 

There, lit in two dimensions:

a fat Santa, frozen

in a bumpy ride,

(kangaroos

instead of reindeer).

 

By popular demand,

Jesus and his manger

are off to one side.

An echidna, a wombat

and a platypus bring

their various gifts.

 

At least that’s what

they’re meant to be doing—

is it the joy of their delirium

that makes it look

so much like looting?

 

Anyway,

we liked it.