C. L. O'Dell, poet

New Poems

How forever works
​
​

The soft tick of snow
landing in its own body–
​what was left of time.

It then took every voice
to the ground with it.
In a way it listened to me
but also took me down.

However the world
remembered us,
it did so quietly, inside
a dying memory. Love me
​
anyway.


– from The New Yorker