by Carol Tyx

Last Day of the Year

you wake in darkness
               listening to the dream edge
                              breathing beside you, another

circle nearly swallowed
               spinning far beyond
                              any dream, still you live

inside this enormity
               the last arc left
                              to be eaten. In the dream

it is gone but returns
               in the cold morning
                              to meet you

within another dream
               inside the last day
                              of the year


The Night Before It Started

The night before it started
I turned the heat up
because you were coming

but you were still cold
under the five blankets
with your clothes on

and all night I missed
the feel of your skin
but when I woke up

there we were as if
your clothes had dissolved
and even though there was

some other stuff that happened
what I want to remember
is how when you held me

 afterwards, it was like
wearing a coat that fit
perfectly, all warm and

zipped up, even though
we had been wearing that ill-fitting coat
for two years and then the snow

was falling and filling
every empty space, so much
movement and yet so quiet

I almost missed it.

Carol Tyx is the winner of the 2018 Willow Run Poetry Book Award for the forthcoming Remaking Achilles:  Slicing into Angola’s History. Her poems have appeared most recently in Concho River Review, The Aurorean, and Iowa City’s Poetry in Public.  Currently Carol is the artist-in-residence at Prairiewoods eco-spirituality center, where she visits Grandmother Oak daily and wanders the prairie with the deer.