Quieted tongues give way to frost bite.
Poetry
by
Kyle Marie
Baby, she said
as he turned away.
A yawning sidewalk gaped
as the singed auburn leaves
surrendered to its icy parting.
He almost expected
his feet to freeze, contract,
steam, heat, expand.
She knew he didn’t answer because
his heart melted in his throat.
He knew he couldn’t
dare, his breath might frost.
After all, death was in the air
turning green to gold
to gutter mulch.
as he turned away.
A yawning sidewalk gaped
as the singed auburn leaves
surrendered to its icy parting.
He almost expected
his feet to freeze, contract,
steam, heat, expand.
She knew he didn’t answer because
his heart melted in his throat.
He knew he couldn’t
dare, his breath might frost.
After all, death was in the air
turning green to gold
to gutter mulch.
© Kyle Marie
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