WINTER FOG
Dark Moods
      Ariegaw L.E. Garcia
      (About Poetry Forum)

It rises from the bottom or maybe it descends from above sometimes you see
it come in from out there floating along the surface of the Bering Sea
a twist on deception in the noiseless freeze all I hear is the motion
of the water against the boat and the fog horn that shatters
the muffled effect of molecules packed tightly together
bone cold obscures my reason unable to control
the chattering of my teeth pulling the nets into
the boat I convulse the line slices into my
fingers icy rage is never planned it
just happens like this thick
winter fog that swallows
you alive leaving no
clues to which
way shore
lies

A SYNONYM FOR STOIC
      Laurel K. Dodge
      (The Writer's Block)

Forecast: Snow squalls. Windchills
below zero. The dead of winter. Under
my down comforter, I shiver.
I can't get warm.

I didn't hold him. A technician cradled
my cat as they killed him. The vet assured me
it wasn't the wrong decision.
I hung up the phone.

Another loss. She says the words
like a bad actor, traps me in an obligatory
hug. I donít want her stiff arms around me.
I shrug off her mothering.

I keep using the same metaphor over
and over: Like a baby Rhesus monkey denied
of real parenting, I learned
how to cling to wood.

I waited until his brain was dead.
I waited until I was sure he couldn't hear me.
Then, like a coward, I whispered:
I love you, Dad. Goodbye.

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