Call From a Winter's Night Up North
I curl up
In the cradle of our cabin
This Friday night in January
The deck out back
Glows
Bright as its own light
With new snow
From my evening muted TV
Cliff an abyss two feet beyond
Lake
A coffin draped in black flag
There is one chain of orange lights
On the other shore
A cruise ship Charon
Slowly pulling away with its gold
In a shadow sideswipe of squalls
With all the snowbird survivors
Waving goodbye
Bon Voyage
Wind
A mad wizard of arms flailing
Barges down miles of forest
Pounds on my door
For the last of the living
If there was anyone to speak to
I’d have to shout above its roar
At four
A.M.
I wake
To an aphonic choir of hooded dark heads
Nodding outside my bedroom window
Nibbling at the needles of the under bush
The deer assume no one is here
To look back
Maybe they’re right
I get up
Coat boots scarf hat
Plow the deep snow
With my steel-tipped toes
Down the middle of Torch Lake Road
To the extinguished blue house on the curve
And back
Look for the cheese of last summer’s moon
Or sugar cubes of Scorpius’ stars
In the scavengered fields
Find my pockets
Filled with the Devil’s cold coins of debate
Feel my way down to the lake
Stand where a dock used to be
Kettle boils and shushes with slush
Sides of broken ice
Clop
Like rotten heels kicking
The waves and rocks
God pauses His knocks
On the wood of my hollow heart
Waits for an answer.
Copyright © Robert Trezise Jr. | Year Posted 2022
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