Show me one little piece of this Christmas tree that doesn’t draw back the curtain between her and you, at the very least.  Or more painful still, untether the imaginings you of longings ago held in your pretty mind.  The Glitter Bird, The Courting, A Ringed Hand, with Fans to flutter-blushes deep in Crinolines and Something Blue.  Let the Christmas air swift close around their lostness, tumbling them like glass in the current, until the tattered prettiness is worn away, and their beauty, impenitent, is all revealed.