Your Own Personal Advent
Life attempts to unregret itself.
The sky is a sign:
Venus and Jupiter reflect a decade, a mis-
incarnation. Leaving home
backs get smaller, unfamiliar
obstacles like the river's name
you misspelled. Aggrieved,
the trains ebb out of stations,
clouds as snow from planes
above them. Both of us
have luck. Behind a steeple
the nine of cups and king of wands
intoxicatingly disregard careful
wishes. They prefer unpredictable games
to keep you near. The pleasure,
the pain sing along--
twin saws bowed with sugars and stains;
take this moment and bask in it.
These are the makings undoing
themselves. These are the best
and worst times felled in every forest.
One gone among many.
Melissa Severin lives in Chicago, IL. Her chapbook, Brute Fact, is available from dancing girl press and she sometimes writes about Liverpool FC at Empire of the Kop.