10, 9, 8, 7, 6 …
so many things are tough to fix—
love-lives and people, politics.
Me? On the threshold of the year to come
I hope to lose at last
the sad reluctance of my past,
like a grasshopper shedding his exuvium.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1 …
now, with the old year nearly done,
my molting labor has begun:
I swear harder than I have ever sworn
that I will live all-out
and all-in and to Hell with doubt.
You hear me, everyone? I am a man reborn.
—from Poets Respond
January 1, 2019
Aaron Poochigian: “Here is a New Year’s poem that performs the transition from 2018 to 2019.” (web)