she was at the door for the whole time

while I played the queen of domestic chores
vacuumed, sang in the microphone of a spoon,

the letter had clearly stated: dress as an angel, wise man
or a shepherd, not a princess, nor a little red riding hood

what about that girl mummy, the one Jesus married?
she didn’t move, bare underneath the white fur

finally we made love while she was watching us hungry