Tree tops like skeloton hands
reach out for mercy
under icy waves
The world has stopped
yet spins wildly
inside grey minds
lying buried in quilts
where dreamers wilt
whispering weather always wins
Sisters scream and scratch
driven by the snow drifts
stacked against the door
As if this weren't enough
the cold creeps along the floor
crawls in from the cracks
of this house
who threatens to split
says the walls that stretch
tired of the heater's roar
In the kitchen,
rugs soak in slushy slop
running in rivers
atop the cold linoleum
that mother mops up
in pure delirium
eyes lost in a melodic haze
from the rubbings and scrubbings
with their swoop and sways
trying to clean it
clean it all away
the cold, dirty, but brief
Pennsylvania winter's day
Meanwhile,
a pillow soaks up the tears
with no place to go
But serve as ordervs
to a runny nose who knows
the pain of desert
From the kitchen mom's call
breaking the beat of a rhythmic sob
that must descend into the cellar
where canned tomatoes wait
sit covered in dust
sprinkles to the must
break free from this...
Outside,
the winds cry
As her windshield waits
to drip and drain
A snow sheet slides
down her spine
But is soon soothed
when the tape rewinds
off she goes in four-wheel drive
Down a path
of slick patched black
sneakily shimmering in headlights
tree lims bow
under the wait of the snow
soon she's racing through a cave
that cannot save
her from any of this.
