March

March 9, 2008
By Chelsea Humphries, Toronto, ZZ

I prefer snowmen that aren’t dead, thank you very much.
No remnants of frostbitten carrots,
Or a drooping pair of arms
Resting lazily, like the sticks that they really are
In the mud.

― Shhhh, you’re not supposed to notice that! ―

Yes, that’s right, the sunshine and the salt
Is only a figment of your imagination,
Along with the robins and the rain and the mud
And the increasing red in that thermometer.

Perhaps you’re colour blind?

I see no red,
Seeing as I’m no matador enticing a bull
To come and charge me,
To crush me,
Trample me,
And leave me
Wanting an ice pack
When there is no ice to be found!

That’s why the world is white
And why the snowmen shouldn’t die!

I wouldn’t know about you, but
When I fall,
I need them.

…I need my pillow to sleep.


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