Christmas Cold
A poem by John Bowden
We’re walking in Christmas cold,
A smoky peace as we breathe out.
Holiday lights slice through the purple air
As the occasional car lumbers by
Interrupting temporary silence.
We don’t hold hands anymore,
I’m not the hero I once was
And you find your heroes now in high school hallways.
Besides, you’re way too old to pretend I am,
Though, of course, I still hope.
But I make sure you walk
On the inside of the sidewalk,
And you don’t seem to mind.
We make our way past landmarks
Of another time,
They wish us Merry Christmas
These museums of our lives.
The former best friend’s house
The tree you hit with your bike
When you broke your elbow.
These things the night ushers past us,
Maybe to remind me how fast it all moves.
But the Christmas cold
Still beckons us forward
Through these artifacts,
Then home again.
Spring 2008 Poetry:
WHAT'S YOUR POETRY by Doris Arnett Gary
FEATURED POET Joop Bersee
EDITOR'S CHOICE Ashok Niyogi
GUILIN NOODLES by CJ Hallman
FREDDY'S FATHER by Gil Fagiani
WOMEN AT THE DINER by Gina Larkin
WOMAN OF OLIVES by Emma Lorelei Brennan
GHOST by Arlene Tribbia
TO MY AUNT WHO WAS RECENTLY FOUND DEAD IN A MOTEL
ROOM by JoHannah Ash
RED BANK'S CARLTON THEATRE by Gloria Rovder
Healy
READING by Em McAvan
AMEN by Devin T.N. Tanchum
CHRISTMAS COLD by John Bowden
INSIDE by Laine Sutton Johnson
BEAUTY by John McDermott
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