Persistence of Snowfall
Do we ever think of Oedipus
in his self-inflicted blindness?
Do we think beyond incest
and the priapic of kingship
to see his suffering flourish
in vivid Impressionist colors?
The storm that will arrive tonight
will camouflage us under snow.
We’ll rise at dawn and ignite
machines to hack a route
through drifts so lacking color
we might mistake them for ghosts
of our honeymoon in sand dunes
on the outer shore of Cape Cod.
Or did we dream those ripe moments
of our enhanced selves entwined?
Oedipus lived a dreamless life,
its horrors entirely awake.
Sex with his mother lingered
after the dark came down forever
and self abdicated self.
The dark of the coming storm
won’t be forever, but persistence
of snowfall can seem a curse.
Working in my gas-heated room
while you expend yourself in chores
will tempt me to blame the Greeks
for the misery that resounds,
as our favorite writer noticed,
in whispers of cuddling wind.
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire. He has taught at several colleges and universities. His most recent book of poetry is Cloud Mountain (2024). He has published three critical studies, including Robert Lowell’s Shifting Colors. His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in various journals.
