Baby it’s cold outside,
Bing sings on the radio.
I’m enjoying these kisses,
these warm, loving caresses,
but Santa soars low overhead
with Rudolph red-flashing
on this seductively frigid night.
Obediently, I rush
from my man’s arms,
escape from that retro date rape song.
into the winter wonderland outside.
My fingers freeze.
My bootless feet dig deep pits.
Frosty next door tries to cool down
my pulsing desire.
The last strains of baby,
it’s cold outside drift, tormenting,
but already a reporter commends me
on Fox tv and you tube
for escaping the so-called
The poems of Pris Campbell have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies, including PoetsArtists, Rusty Truck, Bicycle Review, Chiron Review, and Outlaw Poetry Network. The Small Press has published eight collections of her poetry and Clemson University Press a collaboration with Scott Owens. When The Wolves Come After You, with Michael Parker, from Goss Publications and Squalls on the Horizon, a book of tanka, from Nixes Mate and My Southern Childhood are her most recent small press books. A former Clinical Psychologist, sailor and bicyclist until sidelined by ME/CFS in 1990, she makes her home in the Greater West Palm Beach, Florida, with her husband.