There Has Been A Winter

There has been a winter in the soul of your soul.

To withstand it, you have only to wait in the January

of your forgottenness. Forget me. Forget everything

you have ever known. Be clear in the snow left behind.

It is cold but you show in the detail of it.

© Michael Holloway



She looked like a little girl when we met her,

in the flat, the little mother-type one

who looked after me. Feline and smiling

with a desperate beauty and a whisper

to her voice like breathing on my cheek.

The handprint of blood on the door one night

led us to find her crying, unharmed, it seemed.

The man, outside, wept and bled.

She, it would turn out, was very much

a small lioness with a woollen hat.

She cooked most of the time.

The windows steamed up hotly as we watched TV.

© Michael Holloway