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This week’s offering is part of my new horror collection. As I closed out Memento Mori, I was asked to write a poem about grief, winter, and snow.
This is what I came up with.
The 421 words for snow
by D Kai Wilson-Viola
I used to think it was an urban myth,
a laugh at my fickle love of words, of language,
that I spoke Gaelic, and my older brother did not.
“You know we have,” he said, pausing,
Waiting for me to raise my chin from my book,
meet his before the snow, grey sky eyes,
with mine, the colour of falling leaves and
established grass. “421 words.” His continuation
impatient, holding up his punchline, and I looked on
impassive, impatient myself. One theatrical pause later,
For SNOW.” my brother finished. “Snow!” he said.
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