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We’re thrilled to introduce you to a brand-new chapter in The Alembic’s history. For the first time ever, we’re offering an audio edition of the journal—an exciting new endeavor for 2025. In this edition, you’ll hear every written piece read aloud by Providence College students, bringing a new dimension and life to the written word.
It’s that time of year we dread—
when poor relations must be fed;
if only once old Santa Claus
would do something for our in-laws.
It’s always a coincidence
they’re here when we open presents;
of course they’re empty-handed so
their indigence is all on show;
the carriage house that we just built
occasions a new round of guilt;
they notice the new portraits we’d
replaced while theirs have atrophied;
they’ve cut expenses to the bone
which means they need another loan.
They importune us by the post
to tell us what they need the most;
and if their letters we ignore,
they’re sure to show up at the door;
and just in time for dinner, to
regale us tragic tales anew.
Someone from childhood, dimly placed,
who got done wrong, and music faced;
someone who makes the children scared
and makes me sorry I once cared.
They show up in their shabby clothes,
expatiating on their woes;
they objurgate the world and we’re
obliged to offer them a beer;
their sad old whingeings never cease
with ‘Can I have another piece?’;
of course they’d ‘hate to be a pill’
but maybe they’ll contest the will.
The bathroom sink is full of hairs,
I smell tobacco from upstairs;
of course, ‘We never get a break’
and ‘One more time for old time’s sake’;
I’m sure that mother’s ring’s been hocked—
I want the liquor cabinet locked.
Of course somebody did them wrong,
of course they don’t plan to stay long;
we can’t have them sleep in the street,
it’s just til they get on their feet.
Nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles—
why do they spoil such nice funerals?