Winter Blanket. March 18, 2013. [Poem]

Nothing fancy, just straight.
The old house on West Pulaski.

 

It is a falling-asleep sound snow turning unheard to blustery icy tiny cannonballs against the panes separated by damask curtains of black and white we go about our evening alterations one to blanket one blanketed both to rest a spell one to melt one to manifest desires and epiphanies in tomorrow’s light.

DJD 2013

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