Judith Lapadat

Purgatory's Landscape

All day a chill comes from inside
bones as cold as steel rods
grease for immobile finger joints
stiff black gel

And from outside, a penetrating wind
freezes denim
bites through zippers
scrapes raw the chin

Grey skull cap pulled down
to the eyebrows of trees
limp leaves as faint as forgotten
sullen dearth of colour

Unfocused death of light
slate grey, dull grey, mid grey
charcoal, concrete, fog
exhausted of hope

Until sharp and white, a pinprick
arcs down
flies like a needle at the windshield’s eye
sole movement in the muted moment

Then another
and another
until a symphony of butterflies
of snow
swirl and flap
white forgives grey
dance us into winter