The incident of my life is closed.

The bitter voices shall be my friends.

I will talk with them as

companions not enemies; 

the silence of their care

will flashbang my bones.

I courtesy to love, 

she has brought me many gifts,

the most needed of these

has been my dignity,

and yet a cold wind navigates my heart

and love flees its ice coated embrace.

But my newfound resolve will ignite

my frost encrusted heart

to burn alive the winter’s night,

saving suicide, destitute and alone

for another year.

…

David Hay’s work has appeared in Expat Press, Bruiser Magazine, and Dodo Eraser. He is the author of the novels How High The Moon and No Birds Sing and the poetry collection On the Edge of the Asylum.