New Year's Eve by Andy Fogle
Tomorrow we can startle again, forget
the nightmares. When tomorrow comes, there'll
be no more of the secrets, woundings, hells.
No more of the hushed laughing, whispers, wet
clicking. Goodbye Septembers, now I'll let
you go, and guard against the same mistakes.
If I've learned anything, it's yesterday
is pain. Tomorrow is, however, yet
to fail us. Blameless, it awaits our dream
and so becomes a heaven unlike most
other heavens: near. (We tip our hat.)
Present the future to the past. Redeem.
The straw hovers in the waterglass,
and I, for one, will drink to that.
Andy Fogle has five chapbooks of poetry, with various poetry, translations, and nonfiction in Image, Mid-American Review, Blackbird, Teachers & Writers Collaborative, and elsewhere. He lives in upstate New York, teaching high school and working on a Ph.D. in Education.
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