Ode to a Blight

Ode to Christmas Music

O Xmas music
you are so boring.
No one listens to you anymore.
They listen to their peppermint bark memories,
fabricated reindeer hooves above pillows,
disappearing tree-side cookies.
Carol of the Bells, you are winter’s
hellfire and damnation
for the adult and child.
Jesus, Mary, and
a heart, attacked by:
Bacon-wrapped chestnuts,
Salvation Army hecklers,
Greetings from Afghanistan,
A conversation with Dad:
“When I die,
sue my siblings for your inheritance—
they’ll understand.”
So, merry granulomas to him
and to all else, a short blight.