Reports of your Death…

With the snowfall
from a nectarined black
of a city night sky,
a silent scroll rolled along
the bottom of a gossiping screen
whispering the cold matter-of-fact of your death.

And as the snowflakes settled,
turning the earth’s warty crust
to homogenised milk,
slow tears popped and rolled,
turning my white face to slush.

The land, with one blow
has been softened and smothered.
And in the winter chill
I have lost my voice.

(for Christopher Hitchens)



8 thoughts on “Reports of your Death…

  1. The image of a nectarined black sky reminds me of some of Dylan Thomas’s images in Under Milkwood like “It is Spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black”

  2. Greetings:

    Hope all is well.

    Noting that you have won the perfect poet award for week 58,
    what an achievement, thanks for your outstanding contribution to us
    along the way, keep up the excellence. Best!

    Come join our poetry rallyby Friday if you wish to mingle and get inspired!

    A poem of your choice or a free verse is accepted.

    Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

    Looking forward to seeing you share.
    Respect and hugs.

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