Tuesday, January 14, 2014

IDES

There's always
contractions 
in mid-January

All over the city—
that moment
we're finally 

moved
to feel older—

when on top 
of our 
shoulders

the little 
spangled crowns—

the silly holly 
and ivy ones

we've been wandering
around 
here half-

merry with since 
last year—turn brown

and yellowy grey
and get 
wet—and then

frozen—or else
start
to mold-over.

All over town—
our complexions

and our 
outlooks 
all start

to even-out—
until even those

pale browns
that we're left-
with—begin 

to look 
a lot paler—not just

than they 
ought to, but 
moreover—

than they used- 
to
a minute ago!

that is—that minute
or so
right before 

the city—like clockwork:
took 
Christmas back down.

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