“January”

My left ear is pressed to the door frame gape,
listening for the wolves to scurry away.
The cold air makes for an unpleasant escape,
but the desire to flee warms my strength—
like boiling cabernet trickled
over tepid red meat.

narrative poem written on 12-08-2009 by: on mattkane.com
view image of poem

SHARE THIS POEM!

- Remove line breaks