fridakahlo/death/pain/art/what

she called him, among other things,
the bald one
he’s been creeping around this year
the end of times for loving companions
against our will

where wills will often fail
the cycle revives and spins free
under its own will
a new day reopens

we stumble clear of the last year
managing not to trip
on the doorstep of 23
and now we hover between
the international hangover and
the reappearance of the rabbit

taking our pain
and making it into something else
as ever
as banal as it sounds it still works

measure a yard of day-to-day
cut the cloth
add a button and a bow
wear that garment
and it is worn until it is worn out
and the time comes for pieces new

under its own will
a new day reopens