Winters Cutting Edge
The porch-potted have attenuated
into stick insects.
Geraniums are hallowed be dark moons,
Fragility turns to desiccation.
The red tin watering can
is iced over by a fallen sun.
Of a sudden, a yawning dawn
freezes, is pinned
to a fixed grimace.
Unlock the front door,
push a grudging frosted screen.
Slipper bound toes shrink back,
blood drops through ice holes
in arterial walls.
Tropical fruits uneaten,
beds unmade and cooling,
cat hiding under a throw rug,
just its tail flicking a weather warning.
Slap and lock the door,
ignore the creaking porch
as it were a gutted grave.
Upon a kitchen wall
eyes trace a diminishing light,
a trace that once was a warming ray,
now has congealed into a fingerbone
of yesterday.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
