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Poem – WINTER IN A FACTORY TOWN (By John Grey)

WINTER IN A FACTORY TOWN

 

It’s the winter before winter.

And the winter after winter.

Everything’s stripped bare.

The winds bluster like politicians.

Only with cold air, not hot.

 

Month after month,

eyes can only stare,

lips are too frozen to speak.

The birds have flown south

and are staying there.

Just like senior management,

except the top brass

had their BMW’s shipped ahead.

 

The factory gates aren’t shuttered,

they’re frozen.

Warehouses are giant ice palaces.

Machinery thaws just enough

to rust.

 

Everything’s buried

in six feet of now.

With sun on it,

it’s the color of pink slips.

 


Author Bio: John Grey

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Sin Fronteras, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming in Plainsongs, Willard and Maple and Connecticut River Review.