It's Still Life

The Gaps in Life

A view between the blinds. 
Evergreens, so evergreen 
Against white birch whose 
Limbs, bared and tangled 
Pry open the snowy sky. 

It’s a straight backed view, 
Ghostly pale, weather-beaten. 

And down the hallway, a child coughs. 

She wants a family photo. 
We stand. On the dock. 
You here. You there. You, too.
In front of the Christmas tree.
For this year’s card, she says.

Wind scrapes the Chesapeake raw. 

It’s a wasp’s sting.
Cheeks tattooed with cold and 
Ermine white.

The cards won’t be ready 
Until after New Years. 
Why are we doing this, he asks. 

She says she’s done discussing it, 
And pulls her hat over her ears.

Hot tea and honey in the microwave. 
Stir it when it bings, she says. 
But it doesn’t. 
We’ve blown a fuse. 

The fridge’s gone dark, 
and so has the Christmas tree. 
The air remains frosty. 

And we think the child has bronchitis. 

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AI Digital Art: created using Midjourney’s bot (v4b) Image and poem ©Misky 2022 Shared on Twitter #amwriting