Britch-less Ladies

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we’re in the time of icicles here
a melt a freeze a bend and twist
taking the shape of wind
whatever wind may blow
and if it’s not a gust
a breeze or a Beuaforte 5
it’s an up and down in the mercury
that warms and cools the innards
into a curtsey leaving frozen water
stopped, mid drop
panniers up a scabbard as if
Victorian ladies straddled and climbed
leaving their knickers behind

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day and night, sometimes in the middle
there’s a woosh and slide
when it all gets too much for
fickle roots of snow that feed
these sabres. It comes from
a pitched metal roof where slips
can be fatal and a fall after all
ruinous to britch-less ladies with
nothing left to lose
but their transparency

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One Response to Britch-less Ladies

  1. gwen torgunrud says:

    metaphor and words used as though you are forming icicles in the poem.

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