Site icon Hilary Holladay

What to Do with a Year Like This One


Press its thorny stems between the pages of a book you plan to give away.

Let it simmer on the stove until the smoke is sweet and the pan is gone.

Crate it up and mail it to the moon.

Wrap your arms around it as you would a grieving child.

Tell it shush when it wants to be a dream.


Imagine the faint glistening as the planetarium’s lights go dim.

Go out into the actual night and uncup your hands a final time.


Listen to the saints

if saints there be

whisking us all toward uncertain sleep

if not soon then soon


the sleep of birds of flowers

of years like this one

nearly gone

and years aching coming daring to be born


Ah, saints!

Unwinding the future of our past

reaching toward us as we reach

toward you

let this year rise like music

like trees

let it become us

let it disappear like my own hand

holding the match

unlighting the flame

–Hilary Holladay

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