Carol Frost

June 9, 2015 Frost Carol



Cockroaches ignored the winter dawn

lengthening past spring and into summer.

They hid and scarcely saw that we were gone,


but died less frequently from nerve poison

and ruby dust, more often in nature.

Cockroaches ignored the winter dawn


that cooled the buildings. Where spiders spun

their icy webs in icier zephyrs,

they starved and didn’t know that we were gone.


Sidewalks heaved, sewers split, bridges came down,

freezing and thawing in long November.

The hard structure of their world in winter dawn


disintegrated, and goose grass, autumn

olive trees, birch, bear, wolf took over

everywhere. The cockroaches were soon gone.


We are like cockroaches of autumn

burrowing more deeply and unaware

in heated cities of the cold dawn

when all we’ve had will be gone.

New poems by Carol Frost appear in On the Seawall and Vox Populi, and in 2020, Madhat Press published her latest book Alias City. Retired recently from Rollins College, where she directed Winter with the Writers for more than a decade, she is presently a Chancellor for the Florida State Poets Association. When she is not writing, she tends her olive and her citrus trees.