12/21/23

Night's Spunk Darkness with Axial Tilt (a poem)

 

The cold, dark, longest night
follows weeks of frost and frozen wood
soaked from warm weathered rains, rotting
like time crystallizing blood in white fingers

The poverty of the deer
wandering snow trails in darkness
hunted by wolfie
sole survivor of the culled pack

World nauseated by the heat of summer sun
tilts its pole toward the galactic center
yet there lies a heart of darkness and crush of death
a super-massive black hole reels in matter for breadth

Senseless cold passes slow, interminable
ten degrees below Fahrenheit's frost freedom
liberating moment of meltwater
joke of a theory for deep snow lies ahead

Wind harassing thin walls
shuddering at 70 m.p.h.
challenging Venus to try to remain in place
when the spinning Earth has won the race.

Bloody sinners boiled the political poverty
melting the fat, passing svelte rats
to those that don’t know cold months
like the tracks of small mammals over the snow

After months of semi-dead torpor
with rotten snow
life will flow through plants again
and the longest night stop making sense.

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