February Lines

The cold is sharp and seems forgotten, urgent.

Assuredly, I am humble and bright, free now.

Planes fly over planes above a trembling, distant world.

These windburned cheeks feel like freedom.

Scavenging birds duck and dive, skirting sun-rays.

Palpitations where the sun never sets.

I forge myself a literary home, bedecked and shining.

The doctor frowns and shrugs and we part ways.

Printed pages, too hot to touch.

Driving rain seems to lift and hydrate my soul.

I’m hung as a clothes peg, withered and still. X

Excite me with your longing. Let me count the ways!

Stuck together and defined by our reflections.

Blood seeps from me and I’m reckless.

The pain hasn’t found me today and that scares me.

Renegade. On repeat.

Always looking back; sentimental.

Dancing hither and thither in this great swollen mess.

This has all been taken for granted.

A cool wind blows through this place and we are lonely.

Bumped together again and again.

Snow is coming and I hold out my tongue.

Shutters slam against my heart’s windows.

Looking back, an infill ensues.

These vagrants are beyond me now.

Too many reels spinning to catch my eye.

A dog jumping to catch snow is perfect.

Cold hands. Cold, cold and colder; still, they drum.



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