December Prompts

8:15pm

When I think about December I think about light sensitivity. I think about the great conjunction and red hypericum. I think about a hundred oak trees and a meteor shower. I think about the bar cart we made from a lost butcher table and the keychain I got for my mom that now hangs in our house. I want to stop thinking. I want to be in December without an analogy. I want to host the people I love and write letters to the ones I won’t. I want to drink absence over ice and feel it burn in my stomach. I want to step on snow covered grounds and not think about how bad it hurts to look at. I want to hand you a solstice-rimmed glass that tastes like a lost civilization. I want to watch you drink it and realize we are nothing. I want you to speak to me. I want to hear the voice in your head. I can’t hear you. My mouth is a tempest. My body is made of God and Saturn. My heart is the solar equinox and only you can hold it because you are the Sun. It only happens four times a year but it’s enough for both of us. December is the last one. I don’t want to think about how little time we have left. I want to think about the stars.

– ODH