Cold Day

Scott Minar

 

 

Behold! A snowball in hell

Next to a burning lake.

—Charles Simic

 

 

Down in Hell, the temperature

Begins to fall. A few fires start

To freeze and the next thing you know

It’s like Vermont down there.

Pine trees jut through pillars of flame,

 

Lava stiffens to a beautiful road,

A few sturdy boulders actually crack

Like walnuts, and the Mourning Fields

blanket with snow. Sisyphus punches

 

An old timeclock and walks straight out the door.

The usual crowd of poets builds

A little shelter under a shadow’s shadow—

And suggests we call this “The Comedy.”

 

 

poet and academic from Lancaster, USA.