Christmas Inexorable They have ears but do not hear The drums that thrum in hill and deep. For fear, the raccoon scuttles away To duck the world’s recede, and sleep. As for you, a sword shall cross your soul. While the world slept And the woman labored, The dragon waited by womb In Natal pause. Legions and zealots whispered in its sleeping ear Of another, better age: On one hand, a hobnailed universal age On t’other, a pig-free one nation’s age. The dragon warred, but too late. The baby, the Body, had been born.