The shapes are barely visible.
Hints at best.
A table here. A bird bath there.
Car roofs. Gym set slide and ladder.
Figures with shovels flailing. Sluggishly.
The whorling winds
Making everything curl and bend
Against form and ligature.
One cannot help wondering,
As the whiteness descends,
If it could tamp down
The world’s great angers
Emitting so much heat
But brightening up so little.
Imagine them all snuffed out,
Not even a thin steam rising.
This palest of tempests
Stopping everything cold
As it falls and drifts shamelessly
Downward and out/up,
Furies vanishing like errant thoughts,
Tempers trapped, Vesuvial, Mid-scream.
Hostilities in bas-relief,
Modern day Elgin Marbles.
Savagery becoming sculptural decoration,
An architectural chill,
A calming within the storm
Turning everything somnolent.
Quietude laying down its laws.
Immaculate pale riders obeying
Without question. The unsoiled landscape
Glistening. Snowy silence marching on.
This poem was first published by Allegro Poetry Magazine in June, 2016.