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December
by David Driedger
With five minutes before the warmth of a coffee and the rest of chair
my thoughts ran out the holes in my feet.
pierced by the invisible knives of a winter which recruited well
all those killers of life and of limbs vacationing from their cold, cold
hell.
Forgetting that warmth can be more painful than cold I scribble this
down.
In a place where clarity is present and reality is not.
and the question is obvious,
"What happens when I have nothing to say my Savior?"
In a night sky of angels and devils,
a voice and a cry
the light of an only dark moon.
the warmth gone from a heat that came to soon.
A Savior and this winter,
a blessing in hearse
A Savior and my splinter
a winter's evening curse
it was the first day of December.