Friday, February 24, 2017

Up Through Carcasses: a Poem

Snow sugar-dusts the harvested cedar,
their trunks stacked like stairs 
leading into
a gray sky.
Root hillocks create stationary waves, 
restless stillness in the new field,
frozen-frothy in the wind.
Come here and touch the fresh snow with your fingertips-
can you feel it?
The baby cedar crying in the darkness,
digging up through
carcasses and damp and cold,
restless to point
at the distant sun

and wave arms at birds in flight.

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