The New Year

I will dive to the bottom of the hotel pool and find my mother’s hairpin. With the mouth of a drowning woman on my lap, I will add her breath to mine. In the dark, I will lay the thin white sheet of the moonlight over the blue plums of my wife’s breasts. With the new planet I discovered just when I thought I was losing my sight, I will love another man because I will be a woman. Everything important will never as yet have happened. Let it happen. I will throw a lit match on the secrets my body has kept from me and stand in the fire. The people I have sawed in half will appear in my bedroom mirror, getting dressed.