Wednesday January 12, 2011

Three gray squirrels in a slow-motion chase: this is when they come into heat. The new snow cascades from the branches like wedding veils.

2 Comments


  1. Menage

    A-one, and a-two-, and a-three
    gray squirrels in slow-
    motion chase:

    this is when they come
    into heat, as the restless town
    sifts under powdered sugar.

    Where is the rich broth with marrow,
    where is the noisy brass gong?
    Windowpanes color with steam.

    Something celery and something orange
    marry above the stove’s blue flame.
    Somewhere a ledge of brittle ice

    softens to syrup. You don’t see,
    but sunlight’s shade turns
    acetylene. A woman

    steps out of her bath
    kimono, and cranes stretch
    tremulous above the grass.

    What is that tinkle of brass
    bells? New snow cascading
    from branches, like wedding veils.

    ~ Luisa A. Igloria
    01 12 2011


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