Cold January Walks

Standard

Swirling night
black as coffee.
Streetlights give shades  of whisky on rocks.
Gigantic candles at the wake of day death.
Footprints of strangers
left behind in the freshly laid snow.
So many feet bearing
so many stories…
And time freezes in the icicles hanging on wires.
Cold fog everywhere.
In eyes and mouth and nose,
spreading tentacles into the warm body-
a chilling rape.
Minutes tick as ice cubes
dropped in the glass,
keeping track of what was
and what is yet to come.

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