This thy bounty.

THE sealing of the cardboard boxesOn the floor of the back corridorStainless steel sinks silently stareIn the glimmer of civil twilightThis harvest will feed a fortunate fewRushed to the table awaitingThe airborne cargoBobs in floats of slushy iceLazarus boxes travel under weary eyesSealed with clear packing tapeScreeching with each tearJagged edges sever pieces with finalityScreech, rip, cutThe roll moves swift and smoothShut—close—sealRelentless ritualOverlapping layers of plastic encirclePrecious gifts splendidly wrapped in redEach box on the corridor floor waitsGlowing with a halo of incandescent light