Coyote Mercury

words, birds and whatever else by James Brush

The Monotony of Ice

Your heart would break if you knew how many times we walked back from the hole in the fence when the guards weren’t looking. My old jacket smells like incense and french fries now. It took almost an hour to tape our eyes shut. It’s the only way we could be trusted to go outside. The monotony of ice can be unbearable, so say the old explorers. We move slow against the frost. We keep reading the news. We turn to stone.

3 Comments

  1. James, this is wonderful! I’ve been doing a series of poems about laundry at Via Negativa, and this just gave me another idea. Thank you!

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