January Exile

by Juanita Rey

Weather has thorns,
pond’s frozen solid,
sidewalk’s a rink,
wind’s a cat-o-nine-tails.

No more habits,
face grim at the mirror,
I’m angry but no point
screaming at January.

I’m at the window,
watch flakes glide down glass,
drifts pile up below,
tell my image in the pane,

“What exactly
were you expecting?”
The sun’s a thousand miles south.
It’s with family.

Winter has taken you in
with its dark, its chill,
its belligerent white
forever turning to gray.

Radiator does its best
to thaw my frozen body.
I can almost
hear myself snap.

Juanita Rey is a Dominican poet who has been in this country five years. Her work has been published in Pennsylvania English, Harbinger Asylum, Petrichor Machine, and Porter Gulch Review.

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