Poetry by Brian C. Billings
Stockings
hold two
for the children.
Four eyes keep watch,
judging.
Doorside,
one lounges
in our wreath’s
bedding of red bows.
Slacker.
Snap,
Crackle, and
Pop have a
friend in the pantry:
Quinoa.
Climbing
the tree
in the foyer,
one clings to a
garland.
Jesus
lies waiting
for his gifts.
An elfling offers him
peppermints.
Kitchen
candles nestle
in three laps
while the bread machine
bakes.
Guppies
rush past
a jolly figure
necklaced in a silver
ichthys.
Boxes
wrapped in
Santa paper camouflage
the final visitor in
scarlet.
Brian C. Billings is a professor of drama and English at Texas A&M University-Texarkana. His work has appeared in such journals as Ancient Paths, Antietam Review, The Bluebird Word, Confrontation, Evening Street Review, Glacial Hills Review, and Poems and Plays. Publishers for his scripts include Eldridge Publishing and Heuer Publishing. Read his poem from March 2023 in The Bluebird Word.
