Jan

..

I am December’s darker sister, unspangled,
halls decked only in hope, resolution, a fugue

of fog and chill and willpower oft broken by
the halfmark. I am deep in debt and the un

-veiled threat of days spooled out like empty
boxes waiting, wishes wanting. I am dead

of winter, splintered into icy mapless roads.
I am cotton threaded sky, the why of days

spent, new dawn pondering the what that lies
ahead. I am born with a party, put to bed

with a sigh. I am long. Longing. Built slow
of sober cobbled gray, but great with child.

 

.
A persona poem written for Poetic Asides. 

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7 Responses to Jan

  1. Misky says:

    “cotton threaded sky” is a brilliant phrase. Nice. >

  2. Sienna says:

    Love the third couplet and THIS magnificence:
    ” I am born with a party, put to bed with a sigh.”

    What a powerful ending:
    “Built slow
    of sober cobbled gray, but great with child.”

    This makes me think of when I found out I was pregnant with my first. Completely shocking and unexpected, and big time with “the wrong guy.” But I knew that however terrified I was, I would get rid of the bad stuff and embrace the good. I completely made myself and my life over to give my everything to my daughter.

    And also, it’s about Mary.

  3. Marie Elena says:

    Ohmigosh. Brilliant response to the prompt, from the “name,” to the end. And WHEN are you going to publish a book, m’dear???

  4. Shawna says:

    I really think there’s something to be said about *not* publishing a book. There are SO MANY books out there. It’s impossible to read even a thumb-stack of them (whatever that means). But this, what you’re doing, is *live* poetry. It’s a motion picture never recorded. It’s “catch me if you can” writing/publishing. It’s like a magic book, if you ask me. And you can’t pay for that sort of entertainment/enlightenment. You just have to count yourself blessed to be gifted with it. I, for one, consider myself one of the lucky few who get to read and really *get* you.

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