FEET OF KNIVES by Michael Achile Umameh

When the drab drum of winter dies of the weight of warmth spring’s dewy fingers; feet full of knives; icicles rising and descending a cold caress on an erect skeleton of shivering hermits grating through lauds. From the hell-mouth of a heater, God’s breathing burning bush rings the sweet sound of salvation.

THE WINTER WIND

It’s sharp, it’s piercing, it’s punishing; The cruel winter wind My soul shivers as it whips! I sit wrapped up within the layers of the furry blanket Sipping slowly from the glass of rum Seeking warmth But nothing helps! The only fire that would work Is the touch Of your skin, The only drink that… Continue reading THE WINTER WIND