Arts + Scene » Poetry

A truckload of wood stacked

(we're not in Brooklyn anymore)



such early blackness leaves me cold
fighting the long pull down down down
down to Earth to soft to sleep

backyard walks bring visions of fires and bodies close
mouth puckering for warm soup of antler bone
and acorn trails leading through smoky messages
I want blankets and blankets
woven by my grandmother blankets my mother and father
drew close beneath as the rain poured for 3 days without stop

wolf eyes lurk as bear breath in a steady rhythm keeps time
beneath a fallen snag
(I don't want the car in the night on wet roads)

beat beat breath
bear breath and wolf eyes
I remember body heat and blankets the children suckling
against their mothers I remember
staying close to home in winter

new snow and the stars

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