New Year’s

If you want to travel run

around the neighbourhood with an empty

suitcase in hand. At least once, full circle.

Wear yellow underwear

for the 31st, lest fortune oversee your cup

as she pours. Yes, thank you. I too wish you excitement

& wealth in the New Year.

Mostly, I hope you get

through tomorrow, and then the day

after. I hope you sing other than all alone

and find surprise

in the timbre of your voice.

I hope you eat well

and sleep well, and go unabashed

to the doctor’s when you need.

I hope you see the radical beauty of a cactus

a hedgehog, or a pasture full

of Valais Blacknose sheep grazing

and feel astonished by what you had

failed before to perceive.

Go somewhere cerulean

without posting a thing. Be busy

loving yourself. Take a chance on

the durian.

I wish you growth, which is to say

I hope you become more tree

every day when it’s easier

to become fire.

Write down your dreams as they come.

Certain births take longer.

Hope you’re out there in the big

world dancing. Most importantly,

don’t forget to ask.

When abuela hands you a bowl of grapes

take twelve, no more no less. Infuse each

with a wish before you eat them.

Lord knows I’ve lost months to impatience.

In a year I’ll let you know

just how much closer I am

to becoming a jacaranda, but

you’ll know by the by purple

trumpets at your feet.


Daughter to a Peruvian mother and a Swiss father, Nicole Lachat received an MFA in poetry from New York University. She won second prize in the Short Grain 2018 poetry contest, has poetry in Palimpsest Magazine, and currently resides in Edmonton, AB.