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.
