Winter passed. The Christmas lights came down / together with the shabby stars / strung across the various shopping streets. (Louise Glück, The White Series, from her collection Faithful and Virtuous Night.)
Today is Epiphany, day for putting those baubles away. None have broken this Christmas. I read Lincoln in the Bardo over Christmas. That reminded me of my January poem.
Let’s abolish January
Delete these damp and dreary days.
Disperse this suite of thirty-one.
The country ravaged by storms and floods.
Baubles broken, fir trees bare, marriages
cracking behind steamed-up windows.
January is the uninvited guest. Sea-sickness
feels eternal to the retching sailor.
Blue-black ink seeps from the ballot boxes.
By missing out January we would save lives,
livers, light bulbs, pointless resolutions;
but lose snowdrops and Epiphany.
And what of those destined to die
in that cold, dark cave of the year?
They would be doomed to wander,
blocking our chimneys, spooking children.
Singers without a voice, sailors without a boat.