Poetry by Alexandria Wyckoff
Sweet cookies dip into milk, crumbs fall;
a soft clink, small sounds
that must not grow louder.
Expertly placed footsteps upon
plush carpet mark the way
as presents adorn the trees
underside; a new satin skirt.
One last glance and up the chimney;
once again prone to the elements.
Warm breath lodged in his lungs
releases itself to the bitter wind.
Snow crunches beneath his feet; not
even wool gloves protect against the
bite of metal sleigh railings. Reigns
creak against practiced hands, before
a swift snap leads eight pairs of antlers
back into inky, starlight skies.
Alexandria Wyckoff has a BA in Creative Writing from SUNY Oswego. She has one book of poetry titled The Pain Cycle, with work also appearing in BarBar, Kennings Literary Journal, The Bookends Review, and others. Find more of her work at https://www.alexandriawyckoff.com/.
