Days for celebration are wretched days for grief,

A struggle, and survivor’s guilt happening to each;

Happy Christmas darling, I know you’re on your way,

Now only just a little while, but who can really say?

For all these years I’ve lived with you

And never shared your room,

Shades go up ,and then go down

To sanctify the gloom.

Oh, and did I tell you, 

The home team won today,

Never mind the ersatz joy,

They’re all the same, I say.

And so the snow job keeps a drift,

Where squirrels dodge the light,

And wind leaves trailing inane whistle

On it’s way to night.

Severance pay leaves one unemployed,

“Happy New Year all!”

Is there any brightness in the void,

Left when angels fall?

What shall I say while greeting the hollow of your cheeks?

Do I pretend A.I.D.S. doesn’t show?

Do I whisper that, “You must know

We’ll all be dead, or just antiques?”

Sing to me, and sound your mother tongue

That tamed wild beasts upon the hill

Where you first heard it sung,

Out past the snowy windowsill.

It is the eve of Christmas, so sing about the star,

We all are wishing on it, ah, but yes, it’s true,

To be saved from where we are:

Kneeling at nativity close by death stones blue.