A temporary Rudolph tattoo is flying
on your wrist. It came in your Christmas stocking
with others shaped like presents and gingerbread
people and a wreath you don’t quite care about.
Rudolph is zooming around the room
unaware anyone is helping him move.
You’re quick to run these days. You turn
years into minutes with some kind of magic dust.
You make it impossible to breathe,
in a good way,
like a reindeer hurtling through space
with a mouthful of carrot and mince pie.

Carl Burkitt 2023