September 8, 2014 | Occasus | Issue 4 | Fiction

Fat Snow Peels Downward

fat snow peels downward                                                                                                       
potato flakes    ephemeral and thick                                                                                               
steel winter sky   blue-green gas congealed on frigid concrete                                                                        
I’ve thought about leaving for Winnipeg   Labrador                                                                 
to fill my humid lungs                                                                                                                  
my ragged winter throat with someone else’s desolation                                                                               
my own irrigation from                                                                                                        
blanched splintering lips of beached women in hollowed shelters                                                        aged eyelids pulsating with indigo varicose veins                                                                                     arthritic fingers stumbling over dun bulbs long forgotten under permafrost      

viscera of downtown Forest City      stretched                                                                                          faces of man-woman entities         oxidizing autumn apple skin                                        
rancid bile from soot encrusted vagabonds’ mouths                                                                                      grey spit in rimy air 
aching eartips flicker and twitch like damp fettered hares
oily rubber soles crunch
seal flippers over ice and
little teeth of amber glass

penumbra of Covent market                                                                                                             

her fogged whale eyes gently scrape
over telephone lines
scarring the pewter air
diving murky into my breaths                                                                                          

great persimmon evening clouds dune                                                                                                             

my lashes swell
cold taps make my cheeks raw
hinterland culminates over this place
yellowing stains of the nineties                                                                                                                       mildewed forest green sweatshirts
damp mittens sticking to chaffed flesh                                                                                 

far from medicine-yellow fish-plants
smells reek and drift over dimpled ash ocean water
scalloped waves like filmy contact lenses                                                                                                         bob over caustic sewage and innards
you sit, siren-like amongst shrill tongues
sounds of gulls ache            pulse nervously
noisily above

EMMA CROLL-BAEHRE is an undergraduate student currently pursuing an Honours Specialization in English Language and Literature at the University of Western Ontario. Emma began writing poetry at an early age, and has been involved with numerous poetry readings, including The April Rabbit and The Tangle creative writing events, in her home province of Newfoundland and Labrador as a participant and facilitator. Emma has also published her work in numerous creative writing journals and has read her work at various journal launches, including that of The Paper Mill Press. Emma aspires to publish a collection of her poetry in the near future.