Cleveland, Nikka Hronis


Begin with grey skies
          clouded forecast
                      clouded judgment

 

Frosted buildings
          dripping
into a slow thaw

 

Hope and desperation
freeze
into the slippery ghost
          of “maybe next year”

 

Continue with the lake
          miles of iced waves
                      abandoned into utter stillness
           
unstirring in the industrial chill

 

20 years later the
lake still breathes his name
and finds us solid

 

Conclude with the snow
          a city suspended
                      in weightless jubilation

 

Ten inches of silence
settle over the traffic
          a hushed fury

 

While spring still
scratches at its frozen
          cage
eager to shatter
          the icy peace