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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