It Never Snows Here (in my heart anymore) by Lacy D PhillipsA shrinking man stands on an unbroken beach the Florida sun an arms length away, gnawing at the naked flesh of his ankles. The heat of the day leeches a scene from the corners of his mind that never settles long enough to gather dust.
The day after they buried his wife he turned cold, and a deep snow grieved for him, deprived him of his due anguish; kept his keening at her graveside from echoing through the sparse woods like it should; froze his tears; hid the turned earth that should have forced every eye of passerby to sting at the indignation of death.
Sometimes he misses the dark pines, neutral tones, the world in black and white. Tall palms will never be as reassuring as a stand of cedars. Here, he is engulfed in pink stucco and Atlantic blue.
Sometimes the white sands fool him,
remind him of his last winter
when the sun hit a mantle of fresh snow,
just so
and it strikes him blind to all but a memory.
09/19/2003 Author's Note: Procrastination is good. Embellishment is better. I wrote today, apparently they're ice-skating on the lakes in hell right now.
Posted on 09/19/2003 Copyright © 2025 Lacy D Phillips
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