I want to sink into goldilocks snow,
not too powdery, wet, or packed,
and I want to get tipsy off of peppermint oil
with warm and colorful lights aglow
strung all around and in the house, 
and on the dining table there’d be poinsettias–neatly arranged–
which give off an earthy scent that swirls with a cinnamon and citrus pot
simmering on the stovetop, 
the oven would hold and gently nurse a sweet-ham,
and I want to eat a proper family dinner 
for the first time in ten-or-so years; 
listening to my sisters laughing in the hallway,
my mother blessing the food,
and watching my father and brothers build frozen towers in the yard
to keep away the things that tear a family apart.