day SEVEN HUNDRED and FOUR

A Very White Christmas

You’re a white Grinch who stole Christmas
and made it all about you. Now what are we

supposed to do? We’re left to pick up the pieces
of Christmases past, when sugarplums danced,

turtle doves thrived, and the warm breath of pine
seeped through every home, no matter how small.

You’ve set a new pace like a racehorse in a barn,
and all we can do is watch while we pay the price.

Your fir tree arrives from a farm in grand style
as farm profits hang in the talons of trade wars.

You deck the Grand Hall the color of blood left
by refugees yearning for freedom where none awaits.

Your theme is “American Treasures,”
but you’re bleaching America white.

Your wreath of “Be Best” pencils for kids leaves nothing to write
because you’ve funneled funds from the poor to the rich.

Your Christmas cake towers at 20 feet
while children starve in the streets of broken promises.

This White House was the People’s House, now it’s yours.
Merry Christmas and have a good night. While you dream

of a very white Christmas, don’t let our nightmares awaken you.
Your dream will end with the sunrise. We’ll still be here

with nooses hanging like ornaments, Nazi chants cracking
silent nights and refugees rejected like broken toys.

Your staff will clear your tables and wash your floors.
We will wade in your country’s mess.

--Shelly Blankman