All photographs are by Russell Bittner

J A N U A R Y

Let’s dim the lights, then flog the floor,
and show our ghastly guests the door
as we bid fond farewell to gay December.

Then will you take that holly down
and help me deck these halls in brown
to bury whole what we cannot dismember?

If next, with axe, we broach the bin
and strike upon some lode of gin,
can we then seal within this wretched season—

and give ourselves what better serves
the tra-la-la of tinseled nerves
to neutralize the folly of our reason?

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