Piker Press — Weekly Journal of Arts and Literature
April 27, 2026

Zero

Unrhymed poetry for a chilled heart.

I shiver --
a Zero at the Bone
my cold feet stop
on grey concrete
at what was once
a smile
my blanket keeps the
cold inside
and hides my face
I shiver
as he passes through
my hands
almost unknown

More by Mel Trent → More poetry → Full issue →
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