We're having a minimalist Christmas -
conceptualising it all,
with an installation instead of a tree
a rigorous piece in the hall.
No Santa or tinsel - though the sub-text is there -
it's just so ineffably trite;
with ambiguous tensions and puritan form
we've sprayed the whole living room white.
And when the time comes for the Christmas feast
we'll eat and we'll drink till we burst,
with stuffing by Rachel Whiteread
and a turkey by Damien Hirst.
Winning poem Radio 4's "Afternoon Shift - Alternative Christmas Poem"