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The Great Frost (After Virginia Woolf’s Orlando)
by Kevin J.B. O’Connor

January 1, 2018 Contributed By: Kevin J.B. O'Connor

So the birds turned to stone mid-air
and fell on the Earl’s head,

is that right? On the oxen’s rumps
and the palanquins.

Or was it the apparitions hanging
in the ice—

shagged osiers that struck
them dead,

a current livid among the roots,
transmogrified by the black sun,

itself frozen—like a dark cherry,
a chariot of unknown souls?

 

 

 

Return to table of contents for Issue 12 Winter 2018.

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Filed Under: Poetry Posted On: January 1, 2018

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