January Air

It began with a conversation amongst

A beguiler

Who tempts with salsa,

And she who ate brie,

The pork schnitzel

Which is always better than the chicken,

And the one we’d rather not have speak French

Even though you do look nasally.

It was followed by

A volley of two hands becoming playmates

All but whistling for the wolf,

(his heart was howling).

She twirled the carnivore into a coil,

Sweating to be struck with calamity,

Gasp…

A sudden severance,

Gasp…

A light breeze

Into a now empty space.

A breath that hurts,

A breath

So clean

So clear

So chaste.

I am breathing January Air

In June.