The sun whiled away morning with snow
Then ate the dark
Blazing for a few hours
Falling fast to a slippery moon.
A sliver of it triangles toward solstice
You in your Santa hat winking.
On my gravestone, you said, I want
Where am I. It’s here in the dark.
Venus and Jupiter ride high near the moon
Lights of town flicker in the distance. I slide
Falling fast in a jingle-bell winter.
Where will I find solace?
It’s good to remember you, winking at me
That Santa hat, that dizzying fall from health.
About the Poet
Karen Sandberg lives and writes in Minnesota. She has studied with Thomas R. Smith, Deborah Keenan, Jericho Brown, Joan Kane and has published in Vita Brevis, Freshwater Journal, Main Street Rag, South Dakota Review.