Mayo snow
spread thick on brown bread trunks,
winter’s adipose.
January sun burns low.
A bulbless onion,
we cry when it glows.
The chew of our steps,
wrinkles in the wrapper,
our tracks a spongy sourdough,
but when warm streetlights
melt the mozzarella hillside,
it’s time to feast again,
after a cold wind blows.
©2024 | K.F. Hartless
Cover Art: A photograph from a recent walk.





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