Thesia is Sin -- A Poem for the New Year
(Written at 5 in the morning, New Year's Day, 2012)
Questionable lights fall across the land. They soak into the ground, leaving a peppermint ooze. Wandering carefully through, I notice a pink-smelling mist rising, surrounding me. It tickles.
Once, twice I am lifted, as my shadow says howdy to the irreducibility of it all. I, however, remain silent, keeping twice my usual distance from reality.
A hopeful sound approaches. I place it into shadow position as we dance across the not-quite floor. The comfort is reassuring.
Once again, the new year has forced itself upon us. If only we could make it stumble, we could have a time without time, knowing that safety is not in numbers but in friends, and that the fragrant sound of touching shines sweetly over all.
Martin Cohen is a retired computer programmer who loves dancing (favorites are West Coast Swing, Waltz, Foxtrot, and Salsa), writing (but not revising) poems, and solving math problems.