Old Wives - Jan 9 2023

 

Old Wives

Jan 9 2023

Will you really freeze your lungs

if you breathe through your mouth?

Winters

   —  when I was a child

and winters weren’t halfhearted

as they are today   —

I lived in fear of this,

muffled in scarves

stiff with frozen snot,

swampy inside

from my hot wet breath.

Old wives tales.

Wolves, lurking by the bus stop.

The wet tongue

of the kid who couldn't resist

frozen to a lamp post.

Whistling

to call up the northern lights.

We were young

and believed what we were told.

But who knows?

It was much colder back then,

with snow piled over our heads

and winters that lasted forever.

So maybe it was true.

Maybe the old wives

knew what they were talking about.

I go outside, and try to whistle

looking up at the sky.

But I'm such a lousy whistler

an airy lisp

is all that comes out.

So I stop

tilt my head

and carefully listen.

Could that be wolves,

howling in the distance

and heading this way?