Claustrophobe
Am I trapped on
the second floor?
My town for now
has the greater
accumulation,
And I realize this
is maybe too much.
I look out:
all I see are shapes
of indistinction;
I can’t even see
that well for
vapor pushing
up against my
window, making
visual barriers
in condensation.
The storm is Jonas;
that’s fine. If you
can escape the
hunt of God by
living for days in
a great fish—before
being retrieved by
hunter’s hand (let’s
say)—then I not
hunted by the
divine with the
exception to be
loved,
then I can weather
this—well, you
know–weather.
clcouch123 
January 23, 2016 at 9:37 pm
We need upper stories on the houses so that we can open the topmost windows to allow for air circulation as the storms continue. I would much rather be snowbound and let the storm be Jonas. 🙂 I hope you’re still comfortably situated.
I like the poem. Stuck in the inescapable, the world becoming an alien snowscape dotted with white sculpture.
January 24, 2016 at 10:08 pm
Thanks very much for your response. My situation’s pretty good. I have electricity, which means I have heat. I have good neighbors, which means I have help. Evidently, the center of the storm was us. It’s quiet now with lots and lots of shoveling and moving snow off streets. I’m delighted you like the poem. I hope you’re staying well.
January 25, 2016 at 12:48 am
Uh oh. This ain’t fiction right?
News around the world are about snowstorm playfully called ‘SnowZilla’. I hope you’re safe! 🙂
This is a lovely poem, by the way. 🙂
January 26, 2016 at 4:08 am
No, I’m claustrophobic (that ain’t fiction, sadly). I didn’t even think about it until we had so much snow and so high. My neighbors have been so helpful in the digging out. I have meds. and ways to cope, such as writing, for the rest. I am safe, thank you. Thanks for calling my poem lovely, a word I never think of for my work. I’m delighted you see that. I hope your week is going safely, too.