these are such broken Decembers
the chill strangles me
through memories that have happened
and that will
this damn monitor keeps flickering
a taunt to just turn around
and turn on this or that instead
no, if there is one thing i have learned
through the deaths of december
it is that words cannot be one of them
deep and sharp
crystalline dancers move across my mind
and invite me to play
it is frightening to join them
because i do not know what sounds i might make
it is the groans of the guilty this evening, i think
that even the Light of the World
coming in at the darkest day
is not enough to numb the pain,
to cover this shallow pool of blood
Less Than 1%: Surviving My Stillborn 