C. E. Chaffin

PANTOUM AFTER JACK LONDON'S "TO BUILD A FIRE"

Winter takes no prisoners. It kills.
Death by snow is a sublime relief.
Cut your dog to bathe your hands. Blood spills,
Red crystals forming quicker than a thief.

Death by snow is a sublime relief.
Relax beneath the quilt of flake and crust,
Red crystals forming quicker than a thief.
Maintaining your consciousness is a must

Relax beneath the quilt of flake and crust
While bile and bones transform to bitter ice.
Maintaining your consciousness is a must.
The cold would fix your spirit in a vise.

While bile and bones transform to bitter ice,
Insensible, your hands have turned to brick.
The cold would fix your spirit in a vise.
You feel sleepy more than you feel sick.

Insensible, your hands have turned to brick.
Cut your dog to bathe your hands. Blood spills.
You feel sleepy more than you feel sick.
Winter takes no prisoners. It kills.

C. E. Chaffin, M.D. FAAFP, lives in Northern California with his wife and true love, fellow poet Kathleen Chaffin. He suffers from manic-depression and chronic spinal pain and has been on disability since 1995, but finds time to volunteer with the homeless, mentally ill, and as a "Master Gardener" through the University of California. Widely published, he edited The Melic Review for eight years. Shoe size: same as mouth.