"bite me, nuclear winter – " by John Reinhart, Frequent Contributor

bite me, nuclear winter –

John Reinhart

at last some quiet

and peace

snowflakes settle gently

or ash

bone cold, bone dry,

boney weary,  bone

so this is what –

the end.

punch lines, snakes ouroboros –

sun rises

coffee is cold,

escalator malfunctioning

stuck here, alone, writing

explosive poetry

Poet's Notes:  Sitting alone in the dark in the cold in the corner writing verses that may never see the light, I have nothing but that little light conjured in characters invented to call us forth to remind us of a currency so precious it cannot be traded cannot be bought cannot be repaid. In those invented hours between now and never, between the cracks in humanity, nature, and chess, shimmering sparks float on the edges of sight, light of promise, light burning up lifetimes instantaneously. Relativity. Only in these moments that last full eternities, blinking out in one instant after another, can we begin to see clearly, sitting alone in the dark in the cold in the corner, writing explosive poetry.