Orpheus in Winter

Here in a lost forest, he searches
in the snow which has fallen
all night with a music buried
and still.  His fingers move
with a memory of strings and frets,
his breath becomes mist and cloud.
Invisible in the pines, snake dancers
listen as he sings. Their fingers
flex and intertwine, their teeth
wolf-hungry and sharp. His beautiful
face shines in the cold air. His blood
is rich with sorrow, his tears
flow and freeze in icy tracks down his cheeks.

[Steve Klepetar’s work has received several nominations for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. Flutter Press has recently published two chapbooks: My Father Teaches Me a Magic Word and My Father Had Another Eye.]

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