Netherworld

My familiar and I 

walked through 

the sooty evening

of January 1st, 2023.

The rain pouring down on us,

muddy sidewalks flooded,

storm drains gurgling

a treacherous goblin song.

Earlier that day, 

I overheard an old women

say to her young granddaughter — 

“better rain than snow.”

This is the kind of thing

Average Folk say

in the Netherworld.

Their chipper, 

quivering denials

die quickly,

rust and shatter, 

in the permanent 

Late Evening.

Souls like mine 

blaze brighter and faster here,

more vengeful and passionate

against the gray.

 

In the night,

I scream for Snow.

I prostrate myself

before the Granddaughter

and plead for her

To Remember Snow

and Burn like me

against the Rain.