Cold Day Poem by Scott Minar

Behold! A snowball in hell
Next to a burning lake.
—Charles Simic


Down in Hell, the temperature
Begins to fall. A few fires start
To freeze. The next thing you know
It's like Vermont down there.
Pine trees through pillars of flame,

Lava stiffens a beautiful road,
A few sturdy boulders actually crack
Like walnuts, and the Mourning Fields
blanket with snow. Sisyphus punches

An old timeclock and walks straight out the door.
The usual crowd of poets builds
A little shelter under a shadow's shadow—
And suggests we call this "The Comedy."