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Snow took Brooklyn
And turned the manufactured streets
Into a hand-knitted O. Henry town
Where, without electricity or battery-powered pastimes,
My dreams replaced congestion with distance, and distortion with silence
I conjured wood stoves in place of radiators
And a forest where there was an empty lot
Avenues became unpaved roads beneath the crunchy frost
In the grey white afternoon, I peered into display windows
Imagining I'd be greeted by potbellied shopkeepers
With handlebar moustaches and gold pocket watches
Then trudging home knee-deep in glistening powder
I longed to trade my ski jacket, red rubber galoshes, and corduroy pants
For leggings and high-button shoes under thick skirt layers
To feel the winter the way they once did
In the days before fallout shelters and TV dinners
At twilight I went searching for a porch illuminated by a single gas lantern
Dreaming of a house with a parlor
Where I could stand in front of the fireplace
Melted snowflakes rolling down my face
Tingling fingertips pressed against a hot cup of chocolate
© by Siobhán Barry-Bratcher
Used with the author's permission.
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Siobhan Barry-Bratcher is a writer and musician whose work has appeared in various print and online publications. In addition to poetry, she writes short stories, plays, creative nonfiction, reality show recaps, and research articles. Two of Siobhan's short stories, "Pigtown Two-Step" and "World Without End," received Honorable Mention in contests sponsored by the literary journal Glimmer Train. She was also selected as a semi-finalist for her short story, "World Without End," in the 2018 ScreenCraft Cinematic Short Story Competition. Siobhan currently writes on medium.com and is also hard at work writing episodes for her podcast, “Grandma’s Been There,” which will launch in the fall of 2024.
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Anastasia:
Imagining alternate lives can be such fun! You've captured it quite nicely here.
Posted 12/20/2021 12:35 PM
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IngridBruck:
Lovely - this whole piece is hand knitted!
Posted 12/20/2021 10:32 AM
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Siobhan Barry-Bratcher:
Thank you all for your kind comments. And Darrell Arnold, I'll be right over--with the guitar! Just give me about fifteen minutes before you start perkin' the coffee...
Posted 12/19/2021 09:13 AM
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Stephen Anderson:
Winter can leave a magical imprint on our imagination, joyful not always worrisome. Here in this poem you have captured that magic, Siobhan.
Posted 12/19/2021 08:30 AM
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Darrell Arnold:
Much of Siobhn's imagery is still common in many rural towns in the Great American West. In my house we heat with wood, both in a wood stove and in a fireplace. We have unpaved streets and see by the light of kerosene lanterns when the power goes out. Bluegrass, old-time country, and cowboy music fill our listening hours, though the ingenuity of man allows us to hear it now via satellite on our televisions. This morning, I walked my dogs down a graveyard-quiet, snow-covered street. The only sounds were the ones we made, and the only light we had was a grand, full moon lighting up the high cliffs surrounding our town. I love her poem. It has caused me to count my blessings.
Posted 12/19/2021 08:18 AM
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Michael:
"No boring subjects," more than a mere cliche . . . today's poem makes the mundane vibrant with imaginative life. Thank you, Siobhan!
Posted 12/19/2021 08:17 AM
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therealtoni:
Nice and so sweet with nostalgia
Posted 12/19/2021 05:08 AM
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