the tinkling of the ice dam is now cacophony last night it played like crystal wind chimes you know the type you might hear in one of those Frozen catastrophes my teeth loose and wiry in my mouth remind me of the ½ bottle of Beam consumed in a rage of follies and feathers yesterday and damn in the bedroom window there he fucking is rapping those antlers against the glass 12-point Jackalope his blue fur shining in this pre-dawn light and he makes still more of a racket by thrusting the butt end of the largest icicle I’ve ever seen against my close-to-shattering window I yell for him to quit attacking my window and come in for some pancakes instead what kind his baritone mellifluous thrums inside my bruised skull um American you know the kind with maple syrup the icicle stops mid-shatter he tosses it in the air and I watch it land mumbly-peg in my deck sure he says why not I put on coffee gesture for him to come in I glance up at the delicate little icicles lining my eaves no way did he pull that prize from my little nubbin collection in one fluid bound he’s through my kitchen door he stands on two legs and why should that surprise me as I sift ingredients and whip egg whites I consider the whys of a Jackalope in Michigan only breaking speed to hand him a cup of Bad Ass Mothers blend from Roos Roast making sure the maple syrup is warm but not hot
Jennifer Shikes Haines (she/her) is a retired educator and current emerging older poet based in SE Michigan. She often writes about the intersection of chronic illness, aging and social justice. She is published in Spoonie Journal: A Creative Publication for and by Chronically Ill, and Neurodivergent People; Mindful Poetry Moments; HNDL Mag: Highlighted Neurodivergent & Disabled Life. She can be found on Bluesky @jenshaines.bsky.social, IG @jenshaines77 and on Twitter/X @jenshaines.