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.)
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