every ache in my soul is a power outage
the lights are out
the electricity fizzing
the power lines lay on my house
the walls cave in
the fridge is rotten
the humidity lingers
the sink doesn’t run
the internet is spinning
my head is spinning
my brain is spinning
every room too hot to enter
too inhospitable
every little sigh is a sweat bead
dripping and falling
crashing and burning
i keep on turning
the fan on
but it won’t work
my head is spinning
my brain is spinning
my mind is spinning
spiraling into madness
every sentence you spoke is a weapon
the heat is sizzling
the telephone poles are screeching
and i cannot put the power back on
i don’t have the power to do such a thing
i don’t have the power to do such a thing
i don’t have the power to do anything
to do anything
to do anything
show me once, how to do anything
how to do anything
how to be anything
how to be anything
how to be anyone
how to be anyone
how to turn back on
can this turn back on?

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                                      Ice Wednesday 2021

Many crosses of ice but no ashes
Trees sagging from the icicles dragging
Little birds desperate for last summer’s seeds
The ice ground whitening, whitening, disappearing

The power flickers and flickers and fails
And the day is one of lanterns and firewood
Everyone wrapped up in blankets and thoughts
Reading books in glaring blue battery-light

The roads are closed, and we are exiled home
Our Lenten ashes are in having no ashes


“…last summer’s seeds” – I grow sunflowers and in the autumn save the seeds in that famous cool, dry place in paper or cloth, and in addition to commercial chicken scratch feed them to the birds and squirrels throughout the winter.