POEM: Dec-Jan

It has been three days and I
     can’t remember the steps.
 
 
December 30: write a list of
the things you want to do
in 2019
 
a thousand paths and no direction
the sun is stationery in the sky
 
 
It has been three days
The pools of water have dried and the ground
                           has cracked
 
 
My feet are cracked
 
The lines of my palm pucker
  too much tension
                     at the seam
 
 
hyperthermic time withers in
the bleaching
                of summer
 
There are no icebergs in this dry sea.
 
 
Each breath returns wasted
      whispering
 
how hard it is just
       to keep my head above
     the dirt.

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