Reviewing The Situation Poem by Sheena Blackhall

It's dark. The beautiful pristine snow
Is filthy melt
I'm wearing a shawl in bed, over my chilled bones

Across the street, blunt spears
Of daffodils, prematurely
Break the lid of ice
A frosty, forceps delivery

Meanwhile, an urban fox is hunting
Whiskers twitching like wires
On No Man's Land

My little grand daughter's dreaming
Her face is peaceful and smiling
Smooth as a bee's wing

My face is criss crossed like mud
Under a crow's feet
So much time I wasted, chasing rainbows

The little one is warm as a rabbit's fur
The dry sticks of my arms
Gather her up, pulsating sleeping treasure