NEW YEAR, OLD DREAD

Cold tea touches the lips

blanket already twisted. 

We plot our way through perfunctory time.

Greetings issued out of habit 

litter the floor like so many

stone dead bodies.

Opiate star points on a map 

a city swamp divided in time lags 

the rise and fall of

the pain wave.

Breath is close steaming up the window pane of America. 

A snow drift against the door, no you can’t come in or even connect with that.

Fear sucker punches lurching day break

 tear ducts buried beneath the ice

particles of frost glitter in the iris 

the air heaves itself on again. 

She asks if I’m alright, well I was. 

And so the clattering effort of another one begins.