Cold War – Stella Wulf

Cold War

In this cold war
a blustering wind presides
over the house; in his element,
storming up walls, battering sidings,
bluffing and huffing at trees,
tearing strips from roofs,
bellowing down chimneys.

In this cold war
she floats her white sheets,
letting them settle like feathers
over the beds, tucking in the edges,
making pillows of the box hedge,
an eiderdown of the puckered earth.

She likes the steady fall of a still night,
to spread herself on the rise of hills,
to lie in the limbs of trees, enfold the roofs,
melt in the chimney’s breathy whisper.

In this cold war
she favours gentle persuasion,
the irresistible pull of a full moon,
a frosting of stars to anneal her gravitation.

This cold war
is a quiet gathering, a crystallised accretion,
billowing the streets, flocking in corners,
a swelling drift, majestic, primordial,
transfiguring.

Tomorrow, waking to a new world,
children will revel in her body,
impress her with angels
while men curse, push her aside.

In this cold war
she will harden her resolve,
fold the world in her wings,
until the hollow wind
blows out.

 

Stella’s poems have been published both in print and online magazines and appear in several anthologies including, The Very Best of 52, three drops from a cauldron, and the Clear Poetry Anthology.

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