New Year’s Day

New Year’s Day!  
Nemesis, advisor,
my saber-tooth,
my cave bear;
  
my always-brutal lover offering once again
to hug me home, whispering,  “Hurry!  
I can’t clean up the wreckage
you’ve left behind, but I will take you in.”  

I break loose and try to run —
old bear, long estranged,
how did you find me?
How long has it been?

New Year’s Day!  I have dreaded you
as I might dread seeing
signs of an end-stage cancer
bound to kill me.

Now I see how empty
your mean hands truly are.
Embrace me, I will embrace you
for a day;  I’ll give you

twenty four hours of honor,
let you bite me, let you open
all your favorite wounds; then,
I will break your hold

and snake my way past you
toward whatever is beyond you.
New Year’s Day!  Do your worst.
You’re just one day of chastisement 

in a life of interchangeable
blessings and curses, drawing blood
once a year, reminding me of how far
I haven’t come from the last time we kissed.