REPEATS AGAIN

 Fiorella confesses: she's written at least twenty Christmas poems--probably more--and she doesn't remember which ones have gone to print and which ones are still waiting eagerly to see the light of day, so please be xxxxxxxxx

          Wild Plum

The wild plum branch on my door jamb

Guards my soul from the devil--

But one dark night when he's calling me

I'll to my window just to see

What he is and what I am

And what it's like at the witches' revel

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I don't drink beer

I don't drink wine

But ply me with chocolate

And I am thine

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I stirred my coffee with a peacock feather

And on the washer lit five golden candles

And drained the flowing blood from my heart finger

To paint the kitchen ceiling red with scarlet

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In golden shoes my feet are tiny

In golden net my hair my hair is long

In golden boot, my words are shiny

My poems become a golden song

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                     Alien

     I was born on Venus, maybe Mars

Where people see with different eyes

Where the stars are different stars

Where the skies are different skies

     My outside, yes, it is the same

 I've passed for years as human born

 And answered to a human name

And tried to live in form

    The difference is in my brain

In how I think and feel and see

In how my heart absorbs the pain

Of my peculiarity

     Alone, alone, all, all, alone

I scream aloud and no one hears

Because I use an alien voice

And you have only human ears

(1993)