Winter: The Seamstress
What a prudish season:
thick grey fabric pulled
tight below the knee
backstitched together
with barely a slit
in the seam–
making it
(almost)
impossible
for the legs
to unfurl
and let light
come shining through.
Winter: The Chef
It’s like
our loving
yellow yoke
is trapped
under another
soggy, sullen
pancake.
There’s no
blue halo
to save us
And the super-sized
celestial spatula,
has been missing
for months.
Winter: The Blacksmith
He forges
molten metal,
into armaments
designed to
chisel away
at the slab
of concrete,
sulking
across the sky.
Written by Eric Dessner MD
Dr. Dessner is an ophthalmologist in private practice in Brooklyn, NY and the founder and CEO of Medmic.com.