Deborah P. Kolodji

Pinecones from a Centerpiece

Pine needles on a lace tablecloth
twelve days after Christmas,
when a lover's rings are green,
swans have drowned
and the tree must come down.

Red candles saved for another year,
frosted pinecones put in plastic bags
in the garage with a stack of Christmas cards
in a shoebox with the photo
of a high school friend’s grandchild.

The house bares itself to carpet stains
as decorations are packed away,
rooms emptied of children
and the last piece of See's Candy.

Gift receipts stacked
on the kitchen table
next to a Cooking Light cookbook.
I eat a new curry dish,
take down the old calendar.

Resolutions

we watch the clock
as the new year approaches
in the evening quiet

there are no parties here
with falling balloons
or squawking noisemakers

just a quiet moment
of reflection and hope
as distant fireworks explode