Burning in the Freeze
James H. Duncan

lights in windows are such heartbreaking things,
the dim reds and blues and yellows seeping
through the blinds and curtains to the empty
street outside, the street drenched in wet snow
still falling dovetail with the rain, deep bruise midnight
and no sounds at all, absolute silence, and those
lights up there reek of the loneliness that lives down here
in the street, and you must wonder, are those
rooms empty? do lovers reside there? first loves
that will sour in the months of winter? second loves that
will haunt for lifetimes, or maybe a picturesque peace lives
up there tonight? it may be all of those things and none
of those things, it all exists in the mind alone, from the street
alone, from the hell of winter alone, burning in the freeze
of street lampposts in rows leading to an empty room
with no lights at all, waiting in the cold dark night


 

 

 

 

James H. Duncan

is the founding editor of Hobo Camp Review, and is a content editor for Writer's Digest. His most recent collection, The Darkest Bomb, appears in Lantern Lit, Vol. 1 from Dog On A Chain Press. For more of his work, visit www.jameshduncan.com.


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