White Lie
By Austin Smith
Christmas Eves our dad would bring
Home from the farm real hay
For the reindeer that didn't exist
And after we were finally asleep
Would get out and take the slabs
Up in his arms and carry them
Back to the bed of his pickup,
Making sure to litter the snow
With chaff so he could show us
In the morning the place where
They'd stood eating, their harness
Bells dulled by the cold, their breath
Steam, all while we were dreaming.
Copyright Credit: Poem copyright ©2018 by Princeton University Press, "White Lie," from Flyover Country, (Princeton University Press, 2018). Poem reprinted by permission of Austin Smith and the publisher.