Loathsome britches blankets the snow-driven piles
of unknown futures end
But do they count the cost
of the lives lost
where the rain soaked moss
filters down depths still to this day unfathomed.
But perhaps there’s a way out of the
coal fire stove’s whimsical rapture
that it plays to itself
while stalking the cars parked
in the crosswalk.
It wouldn’t be an obvious solution.
Many have invested far less to
tell the tale untold until now
But, at least, for the sake of blowing it’s top
the seagulls and eagles, parapets of doomsayers.
Yes, all of these once spoken of toward yesterday’s doom
will wander no more
and declare themselves sore
when they finally bequeath themselves of the room.