By Faye Charlotte
Three feet of snow cover anything in sight, except the black sludge that pools at the edges of the road. The bright white stings your eyes with its reflection. Is it Christmas yet? My mother adorns the tree in red bulbs. Red like the ribbon you used to wear in your hair. The windows get pelted with snowballs and make you scream. The white covering all. How many presents are under the tree for me? Everyone asks if you’re on the nice list. This time of year people like to pretend they’re good people, one month of the year to spread cheer. The answer is no. I forgot to turn in my homework because my mom wanted to watch White Christmas. I’m not sure how long she has. There aren’t any presents under the tree this year. I hold your hand as you fade away, turning that same pale white shade. The black that pools into my heart is not just on the edges anymore. The ornaments are only half done. My father gets drunk and cries staring at those bright red bulbs, singing the White Christmas song. Where did all the presents go? You weren’t good enough this year now your teacher is calling home. They said you’re failing but hadn’t they already known and left you all alone? Thick snow covers the ugly, the ugly of the true feelings below.
Faye Charlotte originally from Cleveland, Ohio, she’s now immersed in her Master’s program in English at Florida Gulf Coast University. She has a keen interest in literary research and dreams of teaching at the university level. She credits her poetry journey to the invaluable guidance of Jesse Millner, her esteemed professor.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 