TFR Home Page TFR Home PageContents ContentsPrev. Page Prev. PageNext Page Next PageComments Comments
            Stockpiling Icicles
            Mistryel Walker

            Seven truants stand
            on upturned trash cans
            in imminent danger of falling
            into the holly bush. They shriek,
            wrestle foot-long icicles
            from the gutter overhead,
            coats open, mittens sticking.
            Methodically they snap
            until a row of icicle stumps
            cling pointlessly to the overhang,
            until they are armed and dangerous
            little men, dripping a trail,
            delighting in their shiny weapons
            of after-class destruction. "Hey,
            where's my sword?" a red-cheeked
            stabber of snowmen later yells,
            his hand in his pocket
            fingers in a pocket-puddle.


TFR Home Page | Submission Guidelines | Frequently Asked Questions | Sign Our Guest Book | Contents | Donations
Workshops | Event Calendar | TFR Background | How to Contact Us | Editors and Authors Only | Privacy Statement


© Copyright 1997, 2024, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 04/01/2006

<script>
(function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){
(i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o),
m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m)
})(window,document,'script','https://www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga');

ga('create', 'UA-22493141-2', 'auto');
ga('send', 'pageview');

</script>