On New Year’s Day
On the last night of the year, we
warmed ourselves with cocktails
and braised lamb shanks and imagined
ourselves rich, read horoscopes to each
other like revelations, fitting our lives
into their prophecies to give ourselves
meaning and relevance. The stars shone
like pockmarks, like hammer-punched
holes in an old tin lantern.
In the still air of the new year, we
strolled the old museum, gazing
through our reflections into the glass
cases, our faces moving like ghosts
across Achenbach and Pissarro,
Duncanson and Sisley.
Outside, casting shadows in the
cold cerulean mid-afternoon,
our forms begged the light for
depth, clarity, and purpose
for one more year.
Matt Hohner holds an M.F.A. in Writing and Poetics from Naropa University. He was a finalist for the Ballymaloe International Poetry Prize and the Cobalt Earl Weaver Baseball Writing Prize. He took first and third in the Maryland Writers Association Poetry Prize. His work has appeared in The Moth, The Irish Times, Free State Review, Oberon Poetry Review, and The Sow’s Ear. Work is forthcoming in Whale Road Review and Cobalt Review. He lives in Baltimore.