today's poem

[radiantfracture]

Wrung out in mid-December,
I grasp the wrong words
when I greet the ordinary objects
of my life.

Hello calendar, I say to the candle.
Well, they both burn down.

The year is a stub, sputtering,
almost out. The candle is new.
Tobacco and saffron, with a cedar wick,
a low blue flame glowing by my right hand
in a clay cup,

which needs to be turned now and then
so that the soft wax
will melt evenly
all the way out to the edge.

I am too tired
to make a metaphor of this.
I care for the candle,
turning it in the cool air
from under the door.

Comments

[cmcmck]

Well, they do call this the stub of the year after all!

[ioplokon]

A good poem, which also reminded me that I had a candle burning that I forgot about!

[sabotabby]

Oh. I feel that hard.

[sovay]

Hello calendar, I say to the candle.
Well, they both burn down.

That's wonderful.

[yarrowkat]

Hello calendar, I say to the candle.
Well, they both burn down.

o, i love this

[pantherinsnow]

This is beautiful.

[adore]

I love this. Resonated with me, and the arrangement of words and imagery is beautiful.

[flamingsword]

It reads like a meditation on death and eldercare. It’s beautiful.