Day 13: year-end blessings

there comes a day — the sacred basil plant
becomes leafless as the sun turns aloof &hides
behind the rich notes of a sugar-white air.

you are winter’s errand boy — hours
spill out of your deep coat pockets, dog-
minstrels struggle for every minute
they can perform — you would rather be away

down a bazaar of oddities where they
sell woollens by weights (first-rate &down),
or in the alleys where many a breath paused,
and never set again amid a litter of chests.

you are my winter’s warning prayer
that can only rise so far above before
the fog envelops you whole. your words
taste of stale chocolate, peanut husks,
&a once-hot-tea gone cold — but your lips,

crooked dreamlike, magenta &apple-rose lit
give me loss and warmth — our wreathed
solemnity is like burning coal. it is red-hot,
to last the long mass of our heathen sighs.

there comes a day when you leave, shadow-
born, as the year closes its tiny fist,
and you hold me like a stranger, like
a memory — ice-crusted and quicksilver,

dewy-eyed and varicose lines — of blue candles
burning slowly, casually, to a holy ending.

By Anmol HA

Anmol HA is a writer of organic poems, multifarious prose, and all that lies in between and beyond. You can find more of their work on Instagram and check out their essay series #Trash.

9 thoughts on “Day 13: year-end blessings

  1. Pingback: The Ghost of Hangovers Past | Stopdraggingthepanda

  2. I enjoyed Anmol’s poem, the same season but different scenery, with its sacred basil plant turning leafless in the sun, which is beautifully personified in ‘turns aloof’ (as is the year, later in the poem, closing its tiny fist) and placed in a ‘bazaar of oddities’, no prayers but blessings. I love the colours and heat in the lines:
    ‘but your lips,
    crooked dreamlike, magenta &apple-rose lit
    give me loss and warmth — our wreathed
    solemnity is like burning coal. it is red-hot,
    to last the long mass of our heathen sighs’.

    Like

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