Image for the poem Dead of winter

Dead of winter

I'd love to think
it was dust shaken
from the wings
of angels and halos
of saints but it ain't,
these ghosts of lace
doily snow flakes
flittering about
like a plague
of albino locusts
fornicating free
into a whitening
paste masking grass,
asphalt and spirit .

Toes blue and stinging
under frayed sheets
as if wool socks were
traded for wasp nests.
By a dying candle
I post card sanctuaries ,
now derelict dreams ,
that it sucks here,
where the chill burrows
in crevices of bone
and who but maybe
Robert Frost knew
the fires of hell could
be so fucking cold.
Written by Quill-in-Heart (Tony Pena)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3 reading list entries 1
comments 2 reads 756
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 10:09am by EdibleWords
Today 9:20am by Harlodsen
Today 7:14am by Chere-Rene13
Today 6:23am by Drieks
Today 1:02am by Sapphirewolf
Yesterday 11:25pm by Betty
") ")}