Hunkering Down
By Karen
January brings cold feet, and hairs that stand up, turning skin to suede instead of silk- I can't get warm, get liquid-centered; air around me has a slab and toetag feel. Dormant as a bulb, I hunch here- January soil like macadamed street. Quiet as the tulips are beneath a cracked cold sky I wait for robins Written January 3rd, 2002 © on Jan 02 2002 09:02 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"January..."