Green Hills Literary Lantern

 

 

Deep Freeze

 

 

My feet go numb at the halfway mark

and darkness seeps into the cold,

blotting houses and trees

and the shapes of distant cars.

 

The dog tugs on his leash, oblivious

to doctor’s orders to take things slow.

Every now and then, pain or maybe fear

flickers and fades, making me glad

for once that neither of us

knows a thing about moderation.

 

At a bend in the road, a black dog

barks at us but stays where he is

and it’s hard not to turn him

into something he’s not—a warning

heeded in the nick of time, a reprieve.

 

Yellow light spills out of windows  

and suddenly it’s good to be on the other

side of warmth—

here in the wintery night

where it’s impossible to tell the difference

between the present

and a century ago and a dream.

 

In its corner of sky, the moon rises

frail and ghostlike and distant

as tendrils of smoke

uncurl from nearby chimneys.

 

 

 

 

Lori Lamothe's third poetry collection, Kirlian Effect, is forthcoming in 2017 from FutureCycle Press. She is also the author of four chapbooks, including Ouija in Suburbia (dancing girl press). Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Hayden's Ferry Review, The Journal, Verse Daily and elsewhere.