A Walk In The Snow
It doesn’t take long for my teeth to have
an intimate meeting with the cold.
I try and talk, but the calcified structures,
react against the freeze.
Instead of shrinking, sinking lower
into my gums, they fill my mouth,
making it impossible to talk.
I give up. I don’t need words anyway.
There is so much snow to make
the first tracks through.
It squeaks under my soles.
Where there are patches of ice,
the ground fractures.
Sometimes, it takes my weight,
but despite my simple footwork,
it catapults me sideways or backwards.
Before long, my bones are sore,
and my blinking becomes fast.
A dog starts an argument with me
through a stiff garden gate.
Over the sea, it will already be dark.
My parents will have eaten dinner.
The fire will be on high.
Outside the back door, my brothers
will be smoking, shivering under the
open night sky, their bare fingers
wax pale and frozen.