Contributor: Lyla Sommersby

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I cannot cull the tide
the rise of Pine and Yule and Christ
the wash of wet weather
in red sweater December
and the sea of gifts
That shining, glittering breaks
and scatters glass, trash
rotten, sodden and sad
at the edge of abyss
as it has
so many times in the jagged past

for once, I pray;
for once, a joyous flight
for once, a warm surrender
no more broken nights riding
over the shards of shattered lives
no more cold descents to liminial light
to promises unfulfilled by futures foggy-white
when comes the cliff where presents part
where fever breaks and night descends
to softly snuff the last glass bauble
to deftly choke our final false cheer
in a heavy cloak of crisping ice
to die another temporary death
when wet December ends.


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I am a student in Miami, Florida. Painting is my other love. My first book, Sketches of Someone, is available through Thunderune Publishing.