Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Three Ways from Winter


Jealousy wakes hungry after hibernation, quick to rage,
almost blind: its little bear-eyes caked with winter sleep.

Don't get in its way until it's stretched and eaten.
It will wander away into last years' leaves on aching feet.


Joy falls soft like snow,
turning trees to fishing nets

and cinder blocks
to intricate work in blue enameling.


Children still must be washed and fed.
Above the wrung cloths

stars spin on invisible wheels: sparks that fly
from the grinding of inconceivable knives.


rbarenblat said...

This is beautiful, dale. I especially love part II, though there's something about part III which speaks to me, too -- the wrung cloths seem to me to suggest the way parents are sometimes those very cloths, wrung-out at the end of a long day of trying to be more compassionate than we know how to be. Knowing that, against all odds, we are forgiven for the ways in which we have failed, and can try again on the morrow.

Dale said...

Thanks so much, dear Rachel! & yes, about parents & wrung cloths.

Anne said...

I was quite taken with the first stanza about jealousy as a bear. Yes, it's quite like a bear.

I bought your book today. I meant to do it before but the intention got jumbled up with the difficulties of living.

Dale said...

Oh, bless you, Anne! I hope you like it. xo

Lucy said...

So lovely. Poor jealousy.

Kathleen said...

Love the whole idea of this--the structure, the images. Very nice. Love "wrung cloths."

Dale said...

Thanks Lucy & Kathleen!