Poem: New Year’s Night!

By Arian Galdini

Inside, your full glass waits where you once sat,

your chair stands empty across from us.

Midnight.

Outside: “Happy New Year!”,

inside, your glass stays unraised.

The children watch my hand,

the glass trembles but it does not spill.

I lift it. I don’t look away.

The shaking lives in my fingers.

Outside, fireworks rake the window with raw light,

the city skims the pane, one spark gutters out.

I keep my palms pressed flat on the table,

the way you once held my hand, father,

when it was the noise I feared, not the night.

Tonight your coat hangs on the wall,

keeping your shoulders’ fall,

a loose thread at the cuff still points toward the door.

Your glass sits by your empty plate,

a bread-crumb, untouched, on the cloth.

We open the windows; cold air enters the kitchen.

The children laugh, counting sparks on the pane,

and at the table’s edge a plate left alone

sits beside their laughter.

Glasses tap softly on the wooden table,

one for the year to come; yours stays.

We say “Happy New Year.”

It stops at your glass.

Arian Galdini