In the spirit of yesterday’s poem, I found this one on my hard-drive and thought I’d share. I actually wrote it on some hotel stationary in Korea when I was there on my stop-over in January 2011.
But, here you go, anyway.
Isn’t soft like people tell you
Or how it looks in a photo.
Like a driveway of sparkling white gravel
Not a downy-feather quilt.
And those curves and mounds that undulate so prettily?
That call and coo, ‘come lie down’, so silkily?
Points and edges
Too tiny to see.
The ends of a snowflake are sharp, cut out of bright white papers by children’s scissors
And they sting if you get too close,
Prick your sides,
Stand you up to attention quick smart
‘Cause you better believe
There’s no snooze button here, buddy.
Its up and at ‘em, George McAdam.
There’s no warm breeze,
Sighing me to sleep.
The cold wind sticks in like pins
Through my ‘completely inappropriate clothing
For the weather.’
(In my mind,
Those are my grandmother’s words,
Scolding as my summer skirt
Is dragged out the door by an autumn wind.
Though, in truth,
She only every said,
‘Do you think you’ll need
Even your limbs can’t slack off,
Get away with wandering
Every few steps
I kick up my feet,
And slam them down hard
To get the blood flowing,
Scattering the shards of snow
Like a giant on a rampage.
I jump in circles
And laugh like a child
(Or a mad woman)
At the hard lake and
The ice-locked boats.
The snow makes everything Quiet,
With a capital ‘Q’.
(except for the crunching, with a capital ‘C’)
Though, early morning Songdo,
Would be quiet any way.
It feels like
I got the wrong address
Or someone slept in
And everyone forgot to come to the party.
A single Korean man
Driving a snowmobile,
As I run and sing and scream in joy,
‘Its fucking cold!’