Spring cleaning

By SM Fishman
12/8/00


Write down your sins,
then throw them
in to the trash can
of memories that only
gets emptied
when you
call for it.


Snow blankets


By SM Fishman
12/8/00


The white glare
of a snow covered
ground fills my
bedroom, fills my mind.

The thought of you glistens
and is shoveled into
my head.

Your memory tastes like
the salt on the road,
melting my mind,
dripping my eyes.

I can’t wait for spring.