Blink, Ending 2015, and Resolutions

by Valentina Cano

Blink

She smelled it on the air,

the smoke of death.

It hovered behind him

in shifts of light

that flickered on and off,

time blinking like frames

in a projector moving too slowly,

crackling with wrinkled and unseen film.

Ending 2015

Windmills of colors

spin in a frenzy of compacted seconds,

distilling a year down to its foam.

Voices rise and fall,

turning inside out,

dreaming themselves

into technicolor replicas.

Resolutions

I have vowed:

to fill my mouth with razor wire

and use as needed;

to spin threads of lies

for bandages;

to rise each morning with an

arrowhead in my veins,

pointing me north,

onward to the next kill.