with trepidation
remembering
my mother
whose taste
for January
was less
than palatable
sour
in one’s mouth
fear
mixed with
anxiety
too many
deaths
in this month
a realization
later come by
and as I stand
facing the end
of one year
the beginning
of another
honor those ghosts
who stand
with me
this night
and drink
enough whiskey
to forget
my name
so as to
sally forth
blameless
from darkness
into the light