By JohnCarl McGrady
You were gifted a surgical
knife for Christmas, from
your father who still thinks
you are in med school, even though
you dropped out three semesters ago
to experiment with charcoal pencils and
mixed media.
You lift the surgical knife
under the red and green glow
of the Christmas tree
and it reflects a dangling ornament;
our lord and saviour Jesus Christ
hanging from a crucifix and judging
you as he spins lazily on the bough
of a murdered evergreen.
And you consider the nature of irony
and decide it is not a bad gift,
because you can probably use it
to mix oil paint
or cut up pictures of Lana Del Ray and Alice Cooper
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