Roberta Beary: DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

We are at the mother of all sales, scrunched up against the hats, the no-good, the bad and the downright ugly. Try this one, she orders, and this, and this. There is no room to move, let alone try something on. With stone face, I lift my hands and obey. She is, after all, my big sister. Buy the red one, she points, yelling for all to hear, it makes your nose look less big.
.
.

snow-mush
my neighbor's tree kicked
to the curb

by Roberta Beary
Washington, D.C.
first published in Shamrock Haiku Journal 6