As the sun beat my flesh, I could hear a great crack

echoing over the seas.

Like a chunk breaking off of an iceberg,

England left Europe to melt in the waves, and where

will the hungry bears live?

They swim and their fur clings down wetly to underfed bones

like moss growing on brittle twigs.

My poem, The Ending of the Advent, appears in the February issue of The Lake. It's a poem of a very specific period of time: December 2016, while I was reeling from the events of that year and looking forward to the inevitable horrors of 2017. I will have more sociopolitical poems than this one in print before the end of the year.