First Poem of a Year For No Reason At All

January 3, 2017 § 2 Comments

How does the first poem of a year feel?
A bit of a duty of course,
For a poet must have something to say on important dates
And sharps her nails, even when full.

But first how to overcome the sense of uselessness
All has been said before, even better,
By others, or by oneself too, especially
After a glass of wine and a few broken hearts.

Then one looks around: The winter; many deaths
One looks back: The summer; many deaths
Now taking pictures of love imagined in the future
Now talking to humans imagined in the future.

Where is humanity’s heart to
Stab it with needles, like a voodoo doll,
Goal reversed: to heal not to hurt.
One heart after the other. The smallest first.

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