[Littlejohn]

Frostbite

This morning
I slepped until
The sun poured through
my window sill
and awoke me with my heart
beating faster still
From a dream about December
With spinning cars and woolen scarves
But I was happier in November
With a slight breeze blowing fallen leaves

Each tree outside, a looming ghost
White and crisp; each treebranch froze
The poets outside now speak in prose
You wouldn't recognize the eastern coast

Summer is a distant memory
the same as the fall
This slight breeze whispers to me
So softly cynical
"Look outside, kid, it's over
I will devour all the hope in your words
Remember how I comforted you in mid-October?
Well now I'll strangle you with the frigid earth
I will choke you with the arctic air
and spread my newly found disease
of apathy and dispair
with every poet's heart I freeze."