The Log Days Of Winter
- wateryourcellphone
- Oct 7
- 1 min read
Bob McAfee
Did you know the pristine snow
that falls today once was bathwater
from the Sultan’s seraglio…
tomorrow, forming the formaldehyde
a mortician injects in a jerkwater town,
hunkering with a warm odalisque?
The morning sleet is colder than a teacher’s wit.
Frog comes crawling on little cat feet,
harrumphing through the doorway, pausing
to brush hexagonal flakes off his lapels.
What can you say? The blind man
wears snowshoes in the front parlor.
