Seasoned Reasons
because Bethlehem flowered, we bloomed,
in a blizzard of correction fluid, and every tree
grew from a profound plantation of money
because economies might have stabilised
inside that cold stable, as cattle lay prostrate
under the peaceful rule of the Christ-child
because what makes society shine, Plato,
was not, and will never be, pederasty – still
quite the hook to hang a captive audience on –
because astrologers, magicians, may qualify
as that day’s queers, aroused as they clearly are
by a deviant star clean as a lost Roman coin
because communities’ mouths frothed
like rivers Israel-over, and in his bed,
every receiver grew to meet his giver
because the contemporary stage has it
that a roof can bend in the centre like a tent,
and not lie flat like a precise law, or a bank note
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