A city of shivering knees, stars leaning over towers.
The people crowd along the sidewalk, stacking walls out of late hours
To keep the last year out for good.
They’re all on camera, teeth chattering,
Huddled behind each other’s shoulders,
Looking up to an apple suspended by cables,
A moon in a lighthouse, a broken compass,
Needles shining in every direction at once.
From up there, they are merely heads,
Shuffling from side to side to shake off the cold,
Thousands counting under their breath,
Holding coffee, posters, hands,
This evening they rode trains, drove cars,
Gathered change for the wishes they’d toss down the well
At twelve.
But in the final moments, they bundle together in the gridlock,
Quiet, waiting,
Winding another layer of tape around their hearts
And lifting prayers into the night sky that this next one may finally
Save them.
And at midnight
They all dip like princesses to kiss for auld lang syne,
Singing and cheering the birth of a new year,
Horns wailing from loudspeakers, eyelashes glowing.
But when the last streamers fall to the ground,
Trash cans overflowing, confetti swept in bags,
The snowflakes become water,
And a dingy glass slipper lay propped against
An old pumpkin on the corner,
Clock hands turning in the morning light.