My poem, Doo-wop, is in the Winter 2023 issue of the Remington Review. Here is the poem:


The temperature dropped
twenty degrees last night.

Trees stood full green—
stunned past blushing,

and on the college lawn
hoarfrost replaced

the sunbathers
who walked the ice-

slicked streets
dressed for summer.

On the corner
four young men huddled

and blew on their hands
as a concession to the cold

like that doo-wop group
that graced the corner

of Hopkinson and Lott
winter and summer

and sang of losing
a love they had not

yet known.
The music often found

an aching harmony,
which like that first love,

they would long for
the rest of their lives.

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4 Responses to Doo-Wop

  1. Nice turn in this, Steve. A living simile.


  2. Ryan Stone says:

    ‘Stunned past blushing’ – perfect!


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