To Michelle Who’ll Spend Christmas in Iceland
A poem by John Dorroh

To Michelle Who’ll Spend Christmas in Iceland

She’s flying through indigo prism
into fire & ice, taunting her snow mane,
her pledge — leaving river breath behind.
It must be fear of being

alone

when much of the world celebrates
the birth of a baby who someone wanted dead
before he was born. It’s colder here than there,
at the top of the world with warm schnapps &
a facsimile of crackers topped with fish paste
& tears.

She will inject her soul with aurora borealis
before they put her to bed in the top bunk
& smother her with Nordic quilts that someone’s
grandmother made before taking her final breath.

About the Author:

John Dorroh’s first poem was written on a bathroom wall with he mother’s red lip stick. Perhaps his writing has evolved since then. His poetry has appeared in over 125 journals including Feral, River Heron, North Dakota Quarterly, Pinyon, Poetry Breakfast, & North of Oxford. Four of his poems were nominated for Best of the Net. He likes to travel and find new foods.

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