Sheryl Singleton Lynch is a poet and essayist living in New York City. Her work has appeared in numerous journals, and can be found in seven chapbooks available on Amazon.com.

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Published in Guest Post, Literature & Language, Poetry Analysis

on

Published in Guest Post, Literature & Language, Poetry Analysis

on

Poem | Cold

The streets are frozen empty with the coldThe harsh ball of winter sunBurns through the cloudsBut not enough to warm us surface dwellersEven mammals have a hard time being warm-bloodedCreatures scurry from place to placeStrategically looking for shelter from the ripping windsA feral cat snuck into the newly empty house across the streetMy husband and I did a mad dance ...

The streets are frozen empty with the cold
The harsh ball of winter sun
Burns through the clouds
But not enough to warm us surface dwellers
Even mammals have a hard time being warm-blooded
Creatures scurry from place to place
Strategically looking for shelter from the ripping winds
A feral cat snuck into the newly empty house across the street
My husband and I did a mad dance to get her out
Torn between wanting to be kind
And needing to keep the place presentable
We showed her the door several times
Before she got the message
I feel like one of those mustachioed landlords
Evicting the poor widow woman in those serials.

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