Poem: Approach of Ice

 

Approach of Ice

 

a moldering afternoon.

birches feign as aortas

pale in formaldehyde.

 

we witness, wander, wonder

at the plateaus of the torn,

those syrup-like salads of once-whisked leaves,

 

and we ask if we should be thankful

to stand above the rot and fossil

of dim spring and gone summer

 

to consider those below the surface of the earth,

the rungs climbed by yesterday’s hands,

never to escape a chill morgue,

 

never to flee a postmortem of sharp winds

and their prognosis of so many of husks

of spent joy.

 

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10/10 ... "feign as" replaces "pretend they are"