Random poem

Know him for a white man.

He walks sideways into wind

allowing the left of him

 

to forget what the right

knows as cold. His ears

turn into death what

 

his eyes can’t see. All day

he walks away from the sun

passing into storm. Do not

 

mistake him for the howl you hear

or the track you think you

follow. Finding a white man

 

in snow is to look for the dead.

He has been burned by the wind.

He has left too much

 

flesh on winter’s white metal

to leave his colour as a sign.

Cold white. Cold flesh. He leans

 

into wind sideways; kills without

mercy anything to the left of him

coming like madness in the snow.

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