Tuesday, February 10, 2015

oh canada

I will never be warm
Block-hard feet in black boots
Mittened hands clutching my Otterbox as if
It could deliver me from this

As if I could tweet myself away. 

Creeping down, soft,
Innocuous, looking like Christmas,
Like childhood, like a white blanket.
Like a landslide that looks like clouds in the distance.

Smothering trees,
Lawns, roads, cars, 
Steps, hats, upward gazing churches.
Smothering hope of spring
Hope of light, gasps for help.


I close my eyes, imagine
A beach, the crystal blue Dominican sea,
The sharp explosion of a beach grape on my tongue,
Sand and sunburn and coconut.

Imagine Balinese breezes, 
Loose cotton pants, big hats, 
Grass thatch.

But my feet are clay, frozen to this place and 
I hate snow.