I Maybe A While Poem by stephen roe

In a imperfect world, there’s snow falling across the city.
Suddenly from on high, the place looks like Moscow in the spring
And looking over to the hills, it’s possible to imagine people skiing.

Here like Dostoevsky I shuffle in the snow, destitute in my thoughts.
I imagine you rescuing your skinny washing, dripping over the kitchen floor,
Veins showing through your cold hands, slamming shut the door,

The cats pressed up to the radiator emitting a low hum of a purr.
As all around the country people peer through windscreens,
You curl your feet underneath you and perch on a chair; prepare -

Lay out in meticulous detail, the plans for the week ahead
Formulate and evaluate, read the poster on the wall, some cat reaching
For a bird on a narrow wall Aspiration written underneath it -

You hope it won’t fall! Everything is now ready for launch,
All it takes is you to uncurl your legs stretch out and press the button,
Send the message to the half a dozen or so people across a snowed-in nation.

There from your work station you run your world, the perfect world.
The cats rub against your elegant legs, you stretch out,
The sinews in your arms like your just sent emails streaming out -

Into the ether. Here the snow falls heavily over my unkempt hair
And dampens my heavy footfalls as I walk across virgin snow,3 inches or more.
I think of Captain Oates and what a gesture that was, my face pressed against the wind -

I keep walking, the gangrene in my heart creeping over me like a cloak.