2020 may be a swirling vortex of shit,
but there are small glimmers of hope,
her and there.
I take a crayon,
draw a big square on the wall,
add a circle to one side,
and call it a door.
The threshold stumble
is not a surprise:
simple anticipation
vs. recollection.
Gonna make it through
this year
even if it kills me.