each new year; a special day,
I ask her out and she whistles to the woods,
there are no woods in the city,
yet she talks to the darkness, She isn’t dark she is white like the lamp,
‘New year resolutions’
‘New year party
‘New year poetry’?
She says ours hands are lying in the dark,
entwined and broken like my ring finger,
“I am shy of light”.
She was singing,
she told me she was sad,
Sad at how she was ruling the world.
I think you are no special human being,
nor borne of horse or a dog,
a mortal man with blood running, through nerves and body,
I called a horse-cart,
There were fireworks in the sky
I could see bright lights and loud sounds,
And I knew she was giving me another birth.