Liminality

Name a New Year's Day that was anything

more than prosaic, I ask myself,

untethered ~ bloated and waiting to bleed,

like a nasty papercut wrapped in a

water-proof Band-Aid. I turn the calendar

prematurely, smelling of Bacitracin

and stifling champagne burps.

//

Per annum, aspirations are flattened by

the expectation of renewal, a cliche:

shared toothbrushes and artless hangovers,

crossword puzzles and the abortion pill.

Let's celebrate in earnest, dearest,

and trace each other's veins.

Let's not bear the weight of milestones.

//

Confetti's charm is dashed by gravity, its temporary

mystique heralds a humdrum clean-up -

just like the holiday's clement yearning

gives way to rot in the woods and

dying fires, ribbons knotted around our throats.

With glasses raised in farewell, we pretend

that we haven't been here before. Muscle memory.

//

The clock strikes midnight to appease

our narrow celebration, parted lips

leave just enough room for liminality - the magic

of indecisive dreaming. If we can't deny time,

we attempt to train it like a dog. You and I

cradle it between our palms. Pressure points.

New Year's is for celebrating the multiverse.

//

10!) a lover moves between my legs,

smiling into the flickering warmth

9!) circling a nondescript house, my shoes

scuff concrete mites turned eraser shavings

8!) I give birth to an infant - en caul -

while a dinner party carries on next door

7!) leafless branches sprout from beneath my nail beds,

to comb my mother’s hair at dusk

6!) I pick mottled apples from the ground

to string them from the trees like rotting planets

5!) upside down in a murky lake, my fearless hand

reaches to capture snail shells - invasive species

4!) knee-deep in Superman ice cream, a girl-child

feeling for missing teeth with purple tongue.

3!) a dancer with rooted legs and a weak handshake,

sewing my shoes in theatre wings.

2!) I'm a woman waving at the leaves and I'm the leaves waving back.

1!) with a rookie chef's shaking hands, I prepare to pierce

the back of a lobster. Two red claws move to cover its eyes

(until it's over). I cover mine too (until it's over).