Moments and Metaphors

On the Hill

Small snowfall
swirls into drifts,

white hillsides
surrounded by brown

until the wind
howls for hours.

Sick Day

Hours
wrap around me
as I drift
between waking
stone in chest
and fever dream
orchid and daffodil

buried in blankets
snippets of day
morning flits
across the ceiling
to evening
streetlight glow
against black corners
of the room

remembered faces
bloom close
their voices
warm upon me
then die away
in damned moments
of lucidity

backed
by the refrigerator’s
hum

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4 thoughts on “Moments and Metaphors

  1. The first is serene and menacing (no, I have no idea how you do that) but the second is really my favorite here. One fine piece of writing, Matt. “damned moments of lucidity..’ as always, you’re reminding me of something, this time Poe’s line “I became insane, with moments of horrible sanity.” I think hisproblem wasn’t a fever, however. 😉

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