IT’S ME AGAIN
What if a new year dawns & I don’t change?
Each January finds me as I was:
still moribund, still sensitive & strange.
I buy blank planners, scrub my house because
I crave the start a bright new year can bring—
but as I drain my last flute of champagne
I wait for change, & don’t feel anything.
Whatever I have been, I shall remain.
Somehow, the magic misses me. My friends
sign up for 5ks, vow to watch their weight,
or learn to knit. I’ll drink & overspend,
I’ll scarf the untouched French fries off their plate.
The world will count from ten, then kiss & cheer.
It’s me again. It’s yet another year.
—from Poets Respond
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Erica Reid: “I actually do feel hope around the new year, but only because poetry makes space for the other less charming sides of my personality.” (web)
