sunny with a real feel of 5
degrees Fahrenheit
another cruel moment in April
gets trapped under ice
no algae
nothing’s blooming
good or bad
here where the climate trickster
of our own making
never sleeps
Frankenstein’s monster drinks
from the fetid future
has not yet learned
how to lie
he won’t open his eyes underwater
he won’t tell us what he hears
in all that muffled blue
his silence is damaged
if he would declare his damage
it would spill then bleed
into the fibers
of a wrongly-folded map
someone has abandoned
on the frozen ground
remember those
pockets of jamais vu
dot the landscape
with crimson-tinted notes
in the minor key
no one asks to be
the hero image
that spans an iridescent bridge
to nowhere
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 