If it takes me all day,
I will get the word freshened out of this poem

I put it in the first line, then moved it to the second
and now it won’t come out.

It’s stuck. I’m so frustrated,
so I went out to my little porch all covered in snow

and watched the icicles drip, as I smoked
a cigarette.

Finally I reached up and broke a big, clear spike
off the roof with my bare hand.

And used it to write a word in the snow.
I wrote the word snow.

.

I can’t stand myself.



Brenda Shaughnessy