JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

The hands of the calendar have changed again

in their arbitrary fashion as they follow

movements of heavenly bodies and ancient gods

 

Yawning we awake to a new year, recalling

how the cow kicked Nelly in the belly

we pack unwanted Xmas gifts away for recycling

 

Outside it’s still snowing or scorching, depending

on which side of global warming we’ve landed

noticing how the price of petrol’s gone up again

 

And how several almost forgotten celebrities have

passed away and how some Eastern dictators have

murdered more of their relatives – and how the cat

 

Has a hangover from drinking some vodka that

spilled on the floor during the riotous singing

of Auld Lang Syne, crossing fingers behind our backs

 

Promising to turn the other cheek this year

really make an effort to love our neighbors