In the Chill of the Day
Molly, what are you doing under a draped green tarp over frozen white ice with such black water flowing fierce beneath it?
Why did you cut a hole in the ice and shiver under layers of thermal clothes covering your probably beautiful freckled skin?
Why do you have a fishing line dropped with a dead-weight sinker down in that hole you stand by; why are you so hungry?
My ears are warm in a knit cap that covers my head and gets me out of the house so I can carefully slide up toward Molly.
I see her mouth smile wide in a silent "hi" and the wind just howls over this black-and-green and frozen slick white ice lake.
I shrug small shoulders in my big down coat 'cause I'm not hungry, except when I look at Molly and always blush too much.
Who arrives next and pushes me hard on the pearly ice and into black water that splashes on me and in me; who does it?
I fall and fill up fast with water-weight that rushes in my head and spreads outward in my lungs and hurts, it hurts so much.
Molly grabs my h