A New Fading of Before

Alan Harris

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.

All