The Snow Falls, I get in a bar fight

We were tucked inside a bar
with scarred, dirty tables,
and dirty clientelle. We were

savoring the silence. Snow
was drifting onto the road outside,
and we sipped the sort of wine
that can be used to strip

paint from wood, and watched,
anxiety growing in our chests
like a wooly animal of some sort
trying to claw its way out

of hybernation, to claw its way
into cool crisp air dotted
with falling stars. I stripped
you down there, I took away

your voice, your bravado,
and you punched me in the gut.
It was the bar brawl
to end all others, and we fought
it with out swinging a chair

or breaking a bottle. I took
it all apart and put it back
together in a matter of minutes,
in silence. Chunks of snow

fly thru the air to coat
our anger, to freeze it.

In this weather, even anger
gets cold, falls asleep with stinging
fingertips, and dies. It could be

that all this white landscape
is a tabula rasa for me

to write a new history,
though my heart is still attached
to the old one. I want to sleep

too, to sleep with a bag of salt packed
around my heart. Hybernation

is an art we humans should have
evolved to accept. Instead, my body
won’t let me sleep, so I’m drinking cheap
wine and reading poetry and watching
it snow in this dingy bar, starting
bar fights with someone whose not even there.

3 Comments

Filed under Frustrations and Rants, lust and love, Musings, poetry

3 responses to “The Snow Falls, I get in a bar fight

  1. love this:

    “In this weather, even anger
    gets cold, falls asleep with stinging
    fingertips”

  2. Nick Mathews

    loved the lines ” starting
    bar fights with someone whose not even there.” gives readers new angle to look at the poem.
    liked the obviousness in the lines “In this weather, even anger
    gets cold, falls asleep with stinging
    fingertips, and dies”….nice portray of an individual imagination mixed with a bundle of emotions straight from the heart. enjoyed reading it.

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