Snowfall in June by Mark A. Murphy

Some nights when the snow is silent,

only the moon burns as it arcs

through the night.

Coaxing moon-flower and evening star

into confiding in its magic.


But magic alone, is not enough

to secure the apple-cart,

or endow the adder with agency.


Some nights, even the Styx freezes over.

Giving the snow a chance

to shine, bright as Charon’s solitude.

Caught between ice and fire

in the long nights of ferrying and panic.




Now hound and thief move in

for the kill, in a bid to steal

obolus from the mouths of the dead.


Only to find the ghosts have flown

the coup. Proffering snow, as a metaphor

            for exiting hell.

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