I wear my Auld Lang Syne everywhere.
It lives beneath the boat frame
of my ribs,
a secret starfish,
mining the
sea of my blood
for boundless
light and love.
I still hear
you, Beloved, across all
the
breakneck years, all the miles…
Will we ever
come through this?
Will we hang
on by bloody fingernails of poetry
and a fence of our fierce songs?
We must.
We will temper
the world’s sadness and fear
with this, our auld acquaintance,
not forgot.
J. Pratt-Walter, © 12/27/2020
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