That frozen lump in my breast

Winter is the time
of year
My cold, still heart stops
I am an expressionless
face of chalk
growing too sad and tired to talk
 
becoming a cancer
that adheres
to the innards of the house
seeking regular chemo treatments
of tea
and then undoing my progress reading mournful poetry
 
Many things left
undone
unfelt cheer is my fault,
deteriorating relationships
and gardens
until the Spring brings my pardon
Published in: on January 14, 2009 at 8:52 am  Comments (1)  
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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. This poem pulled me in solidly y the end of the 2nd stanza and I heard the pattern you have built. Finished, I re-read it again and appreciated it even more.

    How lorn we become in these January gelid days!


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