'Twas the Night Before ICEmas

One, two, three, four. 'Twas the night

before Christmas and all 'cross the nation, not a visa was stirring,

not even probation. The stockings hung limp like outcrops on the vine since the pickers

were jailed at the freedom fence line. The children were nestled in ICE-sponsored

pens, dreaming of Barbies who loved only Kens. And mama in

her robe from Ivanka's boutique had just hit the Xanax for one silent week.

The moon on the blit of the new fallen snow gave a lustre

of research life to chaos below when out on the lawn there arose such a