midnight walks in when it’s nearly thirty below zero

by Adam Chabot

White birches offer their bark 

as kindling. You were unprepared 

for that cold, prickly-like-soda, 

dry taste in the air. Crunches echo, 

breaths take ethereal shape but 

it’s so cold the air sucks that up, 

too, so all that’s left is what’s left to 

feel, to see, to hear within a world 

in which, maybe just for tonight, 

desires no such movement. Go 

to sleep, or at least, go inside. 

This isn’t meant for you.

Adam Chabot is the English Department Chair at Kents Hill School, a private, independent high school located in central Maine. His other poetry has been recently featured in rough diamond poetry, The Red Lemon Review, and FEED, among others. He can be found on Twitter @adam_chabot.