The Gorko Gazette

Another Poem about Winter

which has hucked its icy boomerang & zeroed
back in on unsuspecting us
just as

we were getting used to nakedness again.

Just as we’d finally caught the rhythm
of the gazpacho chop,

its brightness & bite & pure acid pleasure.

There’s a ding in the fender
remaindered from October

& it’s multiplying itself into oxidized stars.

Like salt
tossed onto new-spritzed watercolor.
Like

illegal fireworks left over from the 4th,
bentwicked & matchstruck &
half the fun not knowing if you’ll awaken

in the morning with your fingers still attached.

Oh, Winter, when will you grow tired of yourself—
mummified for months in a wedding dress &
everyone crabbing

that you’re the bad guest who’ll never go home?

That ridiculous man in the reeky red suit
tries to jiggle some levity

into the deep & darkest days,

but all he gets for his trouble is a lecture
on obesity

& a hike in his insurance rates
for those risky rooftop landings.

Bad lover Winter, given the heave-ho
for not trying, not even once,
to change your wearisome ways. Then August

finds us jonesing to be wrapped in your chill.

A flop face-first into snow or a blind
faint backward into ice-feathered fluff—

whoever falls for you has the makings of an angel.

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Nancy Carol Moody is the author of the collections, “The House of Nobody Home” and “Photograph with Girls,” as well as a chapbook, “Mermaid.” Her work has appeared in “The Southern Review,” “Rattle,” “RHINO,” and “Tampa Review.” Nancy also constructs mixed-media collages, the layering of various elements not so different from the way she builds her poems. She wouldn’t mind living on a train, but is content at home in Eugene, Oregon, with her partner and more than a thousand pens. Find Nancy online at www.nancycarolmoody.com.

Image generated on Magic Studio

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