Clare Hornsby

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New Year’s Day

The moon that hung
Full at dawn for days
Before the New Year
Finally shows a shaved head.

Today’s cockcrow is endless.
Did I deny him?
Anxious for the future
I think back, examining evidence
Of virtue, kindness, love 

Yes, they were there.
I’m not imagining the touch
Of our skins, the secret world
We occupied, slipped in
Between the leaves
Of our separated lives. 

But why do I remember pain?
The paper lantern flies then
Bursts open, gashed and
Crashed somewhere
We don’t know where. 

More often now
I see how pain is made:
From fear and hurt handed down
That old dispensation we clung to.

The light grows.
No end of the world came.
Each day will be this one
Slow and silently climbing 
Across a colourless sky.