the shortest day of the year

the shortest day

of the year

J.A. Baker

we pass four cars
off the road
and nikki orders pizza.
they won’t deliver
‘til the plows come through
but it’s december
so we don’t care.

we are saturated
in modern new
england glory
before winter is sinister:
heated seats
dry vent coats
electric candle
in the window to hint
at invitation.

trying to sing
old songs
my voice breaks
on the high notes.
o come o Bright
and Morning Star.

something
thrums
in the rupture
our axis tilted.
three o’clock dusk snow
arrives with thanks
before our cold eyes
can’t take the dark.

I play Messiah
for my family
they say “that’s nice”
“I never cared for
the hallelujah chorus”

for behold, darkness
shall cover the earth
and gross darkness
the people.
we have so much
in darkness
hold out our hands
for more
it burns
going down.

we stomp with flashlights
to the mailbox
mostly ads selling us
decisions
but an update
from pyotr
on top of the world.
“it’s night all day here”
he says.
we’re waiting
for a longer light.
bring us comfort
from afar.

the washington
post says democracy
dies in darkness
owned by the
conceit of the day
but it’s december
so we don’t care.
“that’s nice” they say.
dispel the gloomy clouds.

this month
we refer back
it covers us
to mourn what’s lost
a separate advent
grief as precision.
axis tilted to
the rupture
with thanks

rejoice, rejoice.
I never cared
for the chorus.

light the fourth candle
warm our hands
and ascend:

zecariah said
Dawn is here
to heal.

I awake
in the short day
growing longer now
put on the kettle
and watch
the still
world
blue
on.

---

J.A. Baker
Writer

J.A. received her MA in English from UMass Boston and is a recipient of their David A. Kennedy Prize for poetry.

Photography by Josh Hild