The house is pinned
under heavy snow.
My head fills with mucus.
Icy limbs strain
to reach the ground,
alternately melting and freezing.
I drip in the noon-time glare.
Let me be replenished
in nightly increments.
Dave Bonta (bio) often suffers from imposter syndrome, but not in a bad way — more like some kind of flower-breathing dragon, pot-bellied and igneous. Be that as it may, all of his writing here is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).
mucus, or mucous stuff? A beautiful, painful poem in any case.
I’m not the world’s best speller, so this sent me to the dictionary. The American Heritage Dictionary, a good guide to usage on this side of the Atlantic, has “Mucus (myo̅o̅′kəs). The slimy, viscous substance secreted as a protective lubricant by mucous membranes.” So I guess you’re right — I should lose the o. Thanks.