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The Cold

It’s not a matter of knowing how to live alone, it’s a matter of knowing how to be satisfied with singularity – or so I think from where I sit in my huddle on the couch, housework done, listening to Ani DiFranco croon a song, imperfectly, as a silent, unfilled evening stretches out longer than the shadows cast by this last gasp of daylight.

An endless scene of snow stretches out just beyond my open back door and I feel exactly that way, the way that cold smells – pure, ephemeral, driven, light.

But with the dark arriving, a certain weight of loneliness will descend, a gravity embodied by all the perfect words I’ve thought yet haven’t spoken and the arc of my supper table’s circle, unbroken except for me.

So I watch the soft shadows creep longer – the tenuous departure of the day is like the touch of a shallow acquaintance’s hand on my arm when there’s no reason to go yet no reason to stay any longer.

Soon there will be nothing left except the bittersweet irony in the task of my unfilled sheets, sheets which are like the snow – crisp, austere, uninvaded and so impatiently unsatisfied with just my tidy haiku imprints.

"All the darkness in the world
cannot put out the light
of one candle"

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The following comments are for "The Cold"
by hazelfaern

the pleasure of flash
I guess it is flash. It is almost pure prose. Whatever it is, it has a haunting melody; one that is distant and familiar, and soothing to the inside ear.

( Posted by: brickhouse [Member] On: October 27, 2004 )

Read like prose to me too. Sweet and lonesome. But not in a frightened "how can I live this way" voice. It seems honest and matter of fact. Beautifully done. -Philo

( Posted by: Philo [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

I can hear the silence
It's simple, it's clear, it's fantastic. The focus is strong, so the piece is really arresting. Beautiful :)

( Posted by: AustralianReader [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

Haiku melter
I think the depth of psyche and imagination has been so well explored here that haikus melt and fall by the wayside in the intensity of these thoughts.

( Posted by: Teflon [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

What a wonderful piece of work. Very descriptive and full of thick imagery, like I could put my teeth through it. Very nice to read your work again.

I think I have been in that position on the bed listening to the same Ani Difranco song. Amazing job.

( Posted by: everybodyelsesgirl [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

The smell of snow
I love the smell of snow. The feel of snow. This is beautiful.

( Posted by: madrigals [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

This is what Oscar Wilde would refer to as "Poetry in Prose." If memory serves, that is how he described his own short fiction. Regardless, it's the perfect way to describe this piece. Remarkable contruction and I connected with it in quite a personal way. Nice.

( Posted by: Qwayfe [Member] On: October 28, 2004 )

entering silence
Thanks, everyone. I don't write flash all that often. This particular piece was sparked by listening to a certain track off the Ani diFraco album by the same name -- Imperfectly -- which I hadn't listened to since I was single. The song brought these memories flooding back -- where I was and what I was doing the last time I heard it and I started thinking about the little trade offs we make in relationships... a serene blanket of snow is visually stunning yet cold and uncomforting and in a strange way reflective of the space I was in at that time. A full life is rarely perfect simply because it's so difficult to edit.

( Posted by: hazelfaern [Member] On: October 29, 2004 )

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