a moon, worn as if it had been a shell

December 31st

All my undone actions wander
naked across the calendar,

a band of skinny hunter-gatherers,
blown snow scattered here and there,

stumbling toward a future
folded in the New Year I secure

with a pushpin: January's picture
a painting from the 17th century,

a still-life: skull and mirror,
spilled coinpurse and a flower.

Richard Hoffman (1949- )
via Emblem (Barrow Street Press, 2011)