The Massacre Poem by Harley White

Along the sidewalks meant for early morning,
the holiday trash awaits the City Disposal Service.

In front of almost every house
a tree
now refuse.

Evergreens all
some short
tall
full
slim and feathery
some artificial-snow-covered
with nailed-on wooden feet
some upside down
with their heads stuck in the trash can
some sprayed in humiliating colors of pink and blue
one
sad
tree
actually
painted
green
many hung with aluminum-foil 'icicles'.

Tree after tree
house after house
block after block.

People hurry by en route to work, to school
or somewhere important.

No one seems to notice
death lining the streets.

Soon the City Disposal Service will come and
remove all traces of Christmas until next year.