Special Selection for the 2022/2023 Winter Holiday Issue
Poetry by John Grey
Winter brings me deep snow.
You get the same old kudzu.
If only my frozen air
could fly south
to your steamy fishing shack,
if parka and gloves
knew their way around a line and hook.
Deer tremble through the flakes,
flirt with the ephemeral.
An alligator pokes a head
through brown swamp surface.
Its message is clear.
We live in different worlds
and there’s no shaking the fact.
The weather has cut me off completely.
You feel a little night time chill
but can’t decide if it’s the breeze
or your fourth beer
that’s behind it all.
If only mangrove and coral snake
could float up from the south,
surprise me at my door,
instead of these insolent drifts.
We haven’t just lost touch.
Our winters are different seasons.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Red Weather. Latest books “Covert” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. See upcoming work in Washington Square Review and Open Ceilings.
