Christ Mass

By Elvira

Christmas:                           1800’s-English

Sugarplums, trees

children dreaming of treasures

                                      of plum pudding

                                                and a jolly fat man

                                                                in a red suit

                                                                                changing to…

¡The Great Tamalada!

Chocolate beaten with a wisk

tamales (plump) and beans (stewed)

Yum!

Hot steam from the cooking pot

                                                                sucking

all the oxygen, as

Grandma places her treasured tablecloth

                                                on homemade table

the smell of beans boiling, vying with “la canela”

Ribbon candy in prefabed stockings given by

Santy Clause, deplaning from a helicopter

                                handing me a new

                                                Babă, bought by Mechanics

                                                                                Local #49

                                Later…

all the dads leave,

as “all us kids”

look for Grandpa’s largest socks,

believing Santa has forgiven “my sister’s indiscretions”

                the moms (sisters all)

put pallets on the floor. They shut the

                door, leaving us in darkness.

a sound.

                “Mice” Nancy says (knowing

                its pigeons , roosting  in the rafters)

                “they’ll eat your toes!”  Ha! Ha! Ha!

We try to sleep, some look at Grandma’s

                                                electric candle,

                waiting for the Jolly White Man,

                who’s never had tamales

                but, is the same,

                                we are told

                                to all.    

                                                                                Fast Forward:

Twenty years:

The snow is but a picture

the night like another

Kris Kringle IS KING

Christdom  is lost             

                                                at the mall

Christmas moves at the speed of Visa

                                                                                and those

without, wander aimlessly,

                                                                unpeopled, with crowds

                carrying CDs and sonys and Dells,

                stopping at the Salvation Mission

                                                                                for their turkey

                                                                                pudding, with

                                                                                sides of unholy ham

Better Boxing Day!

                                                Instead of yearly profession

                                                of the Holy Righteousness’ Door

Better Pagan Solstice

                                                and not the entendre

                                                of Peace on Earth

                                                with ethnics at

                                                each other’s throat

All these mighty thoughts

                mixed with morning coffee

                close another year of

                duplicity and truth,

                vying for

                control

One response to “Christ Mass

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