Christmas

The fatted man sits lumpishly and contemplates his navel –
Incidentally much closer to him than it was some days before.
Around his head fly queasy thoughts of chocolates, wine and turkey.
Consequentially, he turns away and groans and pleads for nothing more.

His mind is crammed with Christmas tunes, with caroling and panto –
Am-dramatically the best he's seen, at least since 1998
When Widow Twanky ran away with Cinderella's husband,
But emphatically declined to give the matinee a miss. A great

Uneasy bloatedness consumes the man's attention
Indigestibly berating him for weaknesses he should condemn.
So, filled with sudden strength of mind, he hoists his body upright,
Optimistically declaring that he'll never want to eat again.

His eyes roam wildly round the room along the paths of tinsel
Accidentally alighting on a solitary macaroon
Just one will do no harm, he thinks, and stoops to claim the biscuit
Unconvincingly proclaiming that he'll stop this overeating soon.