by M.J. Iuppa
This winter there will be
no winter—only snow
mixed with rain— the filthy
kind of slush that gets thick
in the smear of wheels
spinning around corners—
all vowels stick
as pedestrians arch
their backs & raise
their arms, like pigeons
dispatched—not
a moment too soon.
2 comments:
Marvelous capture. My hat's off.
Thank you, Ron.
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