Rob S. Friedman
May 2023
Wisconsin Winter, 1974
The darker the colder the more ominous the night passed.
The wind spit wreckage the path confused by spirits.
Each gust a scalpel a distant alarm brought home.
A huddled walk a stumble back a wind’s will distracts.
A car door opens to reveal her hiked skirt.
He offers her up I turn him down she sleeps on.
Rob S. Friedman 