A New Fading of Before
Midnight will soon gift us with
a new year and mummify the old
as we hope ourselves the future.
Spots became so tight last year
that nothing less than interrupt
could calm my jangled vexation.
My body was less a trusty horse
than a kicky, gimpy, hungry mule,
and my mind, this quirky mind:
why did it need to fly and dive
and not adhere to steadiness?
and why so sometimes irritable?
Have I better to expect next year
as the clock pulls in the minutes
like a child sucking in spaghetti?
Resolutions I've tried--no luck--
I'm strong first, but later weak.
Luck I've tried, but it runs out.
This year I'm dropping formulas
in favor of heartlight and love--
not slushy, mind you, but real--
to hear a friend inside an enemy,
catch the light in the eyes, listen
into the endless layers of hurt.
On New Year's Eve I welcome
this new fading of before as it
allows a stronger shining of ever.
From Carpet Flights (2001)
by Alan Harris
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Copyright © 2001 by Alan Harris. All rights reserved.
Photo: Alan Harris
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