Just Don’t Call Them Happy, Anymore

Apocalypse or not,
Some day these holidays
Won’t be celebrated

By anyone. Either
Others will supplant them,
Ideological

Pivots will suppress them,
Or there’ll be no one left—
Or maybe the machines

Won’t feel the need of them
Any longer. Something
Will bring them to an end,

But for now they transform
As continually
As always, becoming

New versions of themselves,
Unrecognizable,
Almost, to the holy

Days they were—almost, but
Not quite. Merry Christmas,
And to all a good night.