The Language of Snow
So many words for snow my tongue turns to ice
in the immigration queue. It is cold. I nurse the English primer rescued from my forgotten desk.
The book does not tell me: before snow disappears it turns to sleet. Slush mixed with mud is sludge,
a degree of difference only but still different. It is important to know.
Fresh snow is welcomed untrammelled by brutish feet picture perfect snow white
but take the snow on a journey mix it with muddy feet and it turns brown.
I feel the heat of questions I cannot answer, a snowdrift swept aside to the gutter brown sludge gathers it melts away.
I do not want to disappear.
Avril Bradley
