Snow Queen

Snow settles in squabbling rows between the bricks of ice.

It is, has always been, the call to ruin that the morning brings.

It’s quiet here. The crisp snow cover crackling,

The branches freezing into crystal strands.

The first of sleepy breaths fog up my mirrors

And let me draw a new face in the glass.

Give me a word to whisper and I’ll call it out in blizzards,

Circling its meaning on a windy leash.

But nothing new will come of your suggestions, I have made sure of that.

Out - part 1

Some nights Joanne could see the skyline from her window, if she tucked the shutters down just a touch with the tip of her middle finger. But not this night. This night everything, the sky, the shore, the stars darkly hanging as though lightbulbs asking for reinforcements, everything, seemed two shades dimmer than it was supposed to be.

            This, too, was common. The electricity surged in and out and the water would sometimes burst out brown gunk instead of chlorinated clarity. Joanne was lucky to have made her tea before it all went out again. She nursed the steaming cup by the shutters, watched the police lights crackle and swirl along the highway underneath her high-rise. Then, with a tingle of premonition, she reached into her back pocket just before the phone exploded in a violent buzz-ring.
            “Hello?”