Janelle Elyse Kihlstrom

Inclement

The snow is soft and merciless. 

The neighborhood was taken

over, while we slept, in

nauseated fits.  Now it's blank

like the street's just had

a lobotomy, and all its quirks

of memory are locked inside,

the dogs and sleds and children.

Now it's white like there was

an altar call in the middle

of my hangover, and the world

elected to be born again.

Even if I'd known in time, I would

have kept out of the business.

But some of these capped trees

still remind me of things; that one,

a blond boy in a long black coat,

someone I must have known. 

The snow is soft and merciless and

beautiful.  I'm going back to bed now.

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