BETWEEN

theres a lull like a dirge

its stale bread

and work/if youre in/is muted

between
the pagan feasts/the rows/small comforts and the sales

and
the wild yell of the 31st when the cities burn cordite and light

then the epic black january hole/more stale bread
with

talk of diets and gyms and budgets - disappointing sandwiches 
and
the lucky book holiday

all schedules slip
waiting
for
the sun