Chill (Cento)
I shiver a little, with the evening,
and you print a shadow like a thin twig.
Wait for my death, then hear me again.
He believes a pomegranate is a thesaurus,
the thundercloud, tomorrow’s puddle. Is
this hunger unlike that of others?
When a drowning man calls out,
his voice follows him downstream.
Why am I grown so cold?
A cento is composed of lines borrowed from other poets. “Chill” owes its existence to: James Wright, H.D., Ingeborg Bachmann, Eduardo C. Corral, Blaga Dimitrova, Forrest Gander, Yusuf Komunyakaa, and Adelaide Crapsey.
“Chill” first appeared on the blog in March, 2016, and was subsequently published in Long Exposure in October 2016.
O at the Edges 
A chilling read …
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Which seems appropriate lately. I’m enjoying watching the snow swirl. In the next week we’re slated for days with high temps hovering around 10 degrees or below. Winter has come!
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