Through cold space
We move one more time
Around the Sun
On the last morning of the year
The frigid frost
Lingers in the air
Frozen icicles
Hang from gutters
Sharp as crystal knives
Cutting open
My melancholy mood.
Your threat of eviction
Reddened slices of
The arrested joy
Of holidays and smiles
Lay as separated cruelty
Intolerable pieces
Bleeding out
My insecurities
Our residence
Our home
Gutted by your hate.
Still I rise up
Shattering your malice
Word spreads
Of your heartlessness
Your tactless move
To remove
A humble family
In winter
During the holidays
On the birthday
Of the Merciful One
You defecate upon.
Let this be
My sharpest blade
Striking at
Your corrupt
And greedy soul
Your harlot heart
Your despicable deed
And may ruin
Fall upon your life
A blizzard
Blinding you
With triple misfortune
And utter darkness.
Copyright © 2021 Charles Edward York
No part of this poem may be used or reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way or form or by any means electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise without the written permission of the author.*