January

I am hearing it winter’s freeze the tightening of air water light a noisy gang of clouds Snowflakes are feathered stones In this field the day builds its frozen bones A beautiful disaster forms Submerged in it I listen for birds There is nothing A moment’s wind brittles my breath numbs my ears I listen for a note There is nothing A hush of sleep tucks into January’s bed Even the dogs stay inside to refuse the ice jabs into their paws The cold cracks the skin of my hands sharpens its blade slices deeper At the edge of the field I stand in stillness an ice-covered statue waiting for the company of pigeons _____________________________ from my sixth book-length manuscript ©dah / dahlusion 2014 all rights reserved "January" was first published in 'The Canon's Mouth' (U.K.)