On the east coast,
we reconvene a drunken yesterday.
sighs sift the seaboard
snow flings unwanted decor on the pillared houses
we head to bed
before the world changes.
We’ve left the eviction notice up
the hate mail sits still in the yard
scattered.
We’ve chosen the next stage of life
before sleeping it off
and deciding again.
She says we can’t know the length of a river until we’ve reached the end.
Mightiness is heir apparent.
All else culls together tonight
— we believe in our cult or else
we wouldn’t be here —
even if it hangs in question.
We’re all set to be in love with the new year
whether it’s really new
or not.
April [7/15]
ericryangrant.com 