WITH frosted window pane so cold to touch
Jack Frost has come to town to play
so lock your car and bar your doors
with a heart made of cold blue ice
and fingernails as sharp as knives
Jack is loose and has a grudge
The moon barren a vacant stare
bleeding flurries crimson flakes
a snow like river blood congealed
upon your steps you fear
now so near!
In suede slippers you shuffle
toward the door holding breath
and you peek thru a hole
see the cold and so much more;
It’s old man winter’s friend
who’s come to visit
No need to show him inside
a cold dark night your blood drains
away and you find he’s here
somehow someway he’s come
from beneath the floor
Jack’s no friend of yours
but loves the cold
:: 10-20-1997 (rev) ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 