Presents

We pile them up, pile them on, but disguise them
As best we can, dress them up in colorful paper,
Ribbons and bows, carefully selected or not

We arrive at the door with one under our arms
Wait for just the right moment to present them,
The presents our presence demands, our offering

To the moment, our present settling the future;
Presents unwrapped become desperate pen sets
And/or ties, become earrings or bottles of wine

Of perfume, become things we thought would
Fit, would appreciate the moment our presence
Brings with it, a gift, an explanation of sorts of

How things are, we wrap so many things like this,
Some good paper, ribbon and bows, disguise
Them that way and hope they work some magic.

-- J. K. Durick