SWEETNESS ON THE EDGE – IV

 

Getting the last of the honey with a
butter knife
wiping from large jar to small
viscous sweetness
on the glass edge
thinking about fascists
of big and small
wouldn’t it be nice
to write of snow thick white light
discs floating down
although
the snowfall was
in the end wet.

Our neighbor giving what he could balanced
things out shoveled wet heavy snow while
we struggled too
our shared connection crushed
by the brief outage
left 22,000 without
the buzz hum hiss that powers
whatever’s left of human
intercourse wouldn’t it be
nice to write about fascists snow and honey
in the same breath
musing on the topic of decline
ruminating about evil and loss of
freedom

I was going to write about freedom

Fascism snow and honey
artful dissonance
is too easy now
flashing contrasted
realities like white
smiling
teeth
bared in the face of darkness.

In the end it wasn’t
razor sharp contrast paradox
but
creeping numbness
snow fascism lost freedoms
blurred and formless humping mountains in the frozen silence.

 

 

– Diane Sophrin
  Vermont. 1.17.21

 

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