Pulled From The Snow

Deep snow

building up

in drifts inside

the hallway,

there’s no way

to shift it now.

You may take an old for-sale sign,

wield it like a caveman.

That won’t save you now.

There are survivors who’d rather be left well alone than be pulled from the snow.

But not me.

I will get through January, February.

Spring comes,

finds me in the fields.

There are survivors who’d rather be left well alone than be pulled from the snow.

There are survivors who’d rather be corpses for skilled dogs to find in the snow.