The Bills Eliminated by the Bengals

Do you know what it's like to be here
In this place in which hell is not hot?  
It is brutally cold, and snow's always
Falling.  It falls by the foot.  I look at
The lake.  It is ugly and gray.  I look
At the streets of this beaten down city.
Everything's broken, and people too
Poor to go into the stores in which
Racists come shooting line up for
Whatever the food pantries have.
Our one hope was our team, which
Got to the playoffs.  They did well
Enough to have their first game here,
In the cold and the snow.  How could
Anyone else face what we face each winter?
So we knew they'd win, and, with that,
Some small measure of pride would
Be kindled in drafty old houses, in
Dark corner bars..., but they lost.
We stood, silent, more certain than
Ever that this frozen city is hell.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 39 times
Written on 2023-01-23 at 15:19

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
Dante’s ninth circle was a frozen lake.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
The back side of winter is a dreary place. Buffalo must be a challenge!