Twice as Cold (Day 327)

There, stern water, gray 

as iron, and twice as cold

—boldness froths like 

whitecaps at your telling, 

yarns of hard-won wisdom 

beat black pearls for treasure, 

chests of gold, hard-hearted 

gems for warmth, their value 

neither won nor sold, 

nor useful when you’re growing 

old with no delightful company 

to make you laugh until you cry, 

to warm your sheets when 

bitter cold creeps beneath 

your unsealed door.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Wolfgang.Mller54

Bah! (Day 316)

How tiresome to be saying 

Merry Christmas again

when it should so obviously 

be June. Since late October, 

all the stores have been playing 

their jingly-jolly songs, 

shoppers humming along 

tunelessly, as they pause

to consider the merit 

of a bellydancing houseplant 

or battery-operated mittens. 

You don’t have to choose, 

on the spot these days. 

The good news is: 

You can buy that retro, 80s

neon sweater, just like the ones 

everyone hated in the 80s, 

even after you go home.

The joys of the season are 

upon us, and there’s always 

a reason to celebrate 

the people you love—as well 

as those you dislike, but 

are forced to buy gifts for by 

your boss or your spouse—with 

a mall-kiosk brie that not even

a mouse would find tempting.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Benh Lieu Song

Newlywed (Day 263)

Look at me,

waking up thinking

about you, a thousand miles

away. On my finger, a ring,

unmarred, bright with shining

dreams and burdensome

realities. Do you wake

up this way, too—wondering

about me, here in the sun—

on your frost-crisp northern

mornings? Or have the wheels

of your world continued their slow

and steady progress, 

carrying, removing 

you, ever further away?

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

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