THE SNOWMAN AMONG THE PUBLISHED
It is cold here among these poets:
for such moments the Snowman
wears a scarf with red plaid tassels.
They drink to the dead illustrious;
they bandy about the latest affairs
and suicides; they burn about
passion, the cold boiling point
of their love. Sometimes the Snowman
wants to be among them, to be
acknowledged. Sometimes the knife–edge
of fame cuts him like the sun in spring:
left on the ground only
a black cowboy hat, two diamond eyes,
three broken eggs, the red scarf,
one dumb puddle.
Richard Smyth
Posted over on Anabiosis Press
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