December 1st. Midnight Poem. (Complete).

The year is old - very old,

December - month of the zimmer

                                            frame -

The white stick -

                           the broken shoe -

Earth piled brusquely on a 

                                paupers grave -

The slow depletion of memory.

Snow soft falling - grey - not white.

Snow soft drifting through a broken 

                                            window.

Snow freezing the eyes, the ears,

                                   the tongue -

Snow in the mouths of hungry canines

Snuffling for bones in frosty gutters -

Snow in the cap of the squatting 

                                             beggar.

Snow - slush ochre - in a vandalized

                                                pram.

On the loose in cities -  through deep 

                                concrete canyons -

Dogs scavenge in packs -  restless -

                                          snow blind,

Tundra bred thugs - safe in a gang -

                             piratical in a crowd.

They scatter in terror if a car 

                                             back fires 

Or a child aims a snowball -

Long ears flapping loose - like galleon 

                                                       sails.

I sit in my back room writing this poem

Lost in my dreams while the old year 

                                                         fails.

Trevor John Karsavin Potter.

December 1st. - 10th. - 11th. 2020.