It’s sleeting outside but
I slant through the slashing
Slivers of ice unscathed
An old woman is waiting inside
Saying you’ll catch the death of you
As she hands me a heavy blanket
Which renews a lapsed hope.
Till then I’d assumed
That death was already here
Lying fallow in a nerve root
Like a dormant virus
Patiently waiting to reappear
As a painful red rash
Lashed across my back
When I’m old and frail.
So took it as a challenge
And made a game of it
Because games can be won.
I dropped the blanket and dashed outside
Where the sleet had turned to snow
And I raced the flakes into the ground
