Recently in 2001 Category

I

Found a finger in the snowslush:
a perfect digit with an iced-blue knuckle
and purpleblue nail, stiff and pristine.
Thought a finger would be useless
without a hand, but it made an impeccable
utensil for writing names in the snow.


II

This past Autumn our pines and spruce trees
were weighted down with an abundance
of cones: heavy brown omens of a long
and treacherous Winter, of dangerous drifts,
and bluecold faces and fingers.


III

Mittened hands shake snow
from a girl's hat and coat and marbled skin,
poke fire into her hypothermic limbs;
their eyebrows are stretched into question marks
but their eyes lock in truth, knowing,
as they drag her from the bloodstained snow,
gloveless and missing one finger.

Your mouth
leaves a slippery circle on my thigh:
a temporary brand of possession,
a shining ring of moisture
like the corona of condensation
left on the bar from our screwdrivers.

Your mouth
traverses my stomach's plain,
climbs to the peak of my breast.
You stab the orange paper umbrella
into my skin to announce your discovery,
your claim, your love?