Snow Poem | Kostas Anagnopoulos

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When the snow stopped 
The gift of olive oil was halfway around the world 
It’s Sunday to us, Monday to them
I come from a family of teachers but I skipped a generation 
What kind of person am I?
If I'm sore at air and water
I'll harden like a snowball
Escape is impossible 
Even with some loop-de-loop moves 
Is snow still a gift in the middle of the week?
Ice formed on Thursday 
Must step away from reach   
Or hold the door for someone
Just not forever
You don’t really know the facts
Who does?  
That you exist in every split second
But not too awake
Because your preference is always to get back in bed
Snow shortens distances 
Branches snap 
More trees will be cut down for a gas line in the spring 
Sheets of ice on the Hudson 
Spotted from a moving train
Mouthing some words
Forming enough notes for a winter cocktail   
A musical score you might say 
I’m not very musical
Though I hope to die listening to Bach   
That idea might shift  
Any number of poems with snow in them
Jesse brought back some artificial snow 
From Las Vegas, $6 dollars for a dime bag
We added water it was heavy 
The dog licks us in his excitement
All new in his eyes
Tips of ears get cold quickly  
Old accidents resurface 
In the knees 
I wouldn’t be here without accidents 
Jesse is messy  
His season is fall 
He juggles heaps 
I thought spring was the best season 
For suicide   
I’ll address summer next
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