Showing posts with label poem 22. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem 22. Show all posts

Monday, January 22, 2018

Another Snowstorm Job

Snow cleared
each spiderweb from the air.

Over there
they said, pointing to a ditch. 

Where a car had been rolled
onto its back. Like a beetle–

without limbs to shake in the air–
settled; extremely still, on the freeze. 

Each step closer crunched, 
under weight. Weight of me, 

weight of boots, of body,
of consequence. Weight 

of metal chains; 
I sunk in, to my shins. 

Too heavy for the surface. 
Towing, against the slip

of snow. Clipped: 
bumper to bumper.

Then the pulling. Like
a dentist, tautening.

No room for thought
about the cross: beaded 

and wrapped upside down, still 
swaying from the cracked rearview. 

Waving faster, frenzied. Hurried and wild
as the roof slid forward against the ground.

Upward, up over the shining ditch,
and out. Onto the road again.