Wednesday, April 24, 2013

in which I write a poem about more bizarre Missouri weather.

snow in april

in the Northern Hemisphere,
under this Medusa street lamp,
snow hits the road with a hiss,
because it's April and this
pavement is warm beneath my palm.

I can't tell you what it means
when morning is a horizon dream
and air freezes between your lips-

but I can tell you one thing,
and I promise it's only weather talk:
when the sun comes up, the snow will
melt and you will resume your rituals.