Friday, January 7, 2022

Poetry: New Year

 New Year


The New Year is arbitrary- 

even Roman, for gods’ sakes!

The swinging of a two-faced door

promises no beginning.

And really, how could it.

It’s a binge fest 

of finger foods, 

streamers and sirens-

a giant falling ball-

all revelry and Bacchus

and, if you’re lucky, a kiss.

The next day, they say,  
brings penance, resolution,
a clean slate. 

And ham! Or black-eyed peas

depending on where you come from.


Is this really the time to begin anew-

when the foreigners are still trudging

for miles to pay homage to their king?


The world is flat, and there is no beginning. 


(Or really, it's an ellipsoid 

spinning a thousand 

miles per hour

the big blue ball 

indifferent to these many meanings)


But maybe we will do it just the same- 

Decide. Make Amends.
Write down our intentions. 


Imagine the snow wipes everything clean- 

And begin all over again.


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