J. Sullivan
Winter Melt Issue 2009
You've had me 'tween your thumbs,
just to whistle...
Tell me of your totem stones,
of the spaces I can't know,
of the life of your body
before your bones
had turned from the gristle,
when I'd only been a blade of grass
'tween your thumbs while you whistled.
They Fell in Winter Sheets
They fell in winter sheets, in cold for blankets,
the limbs were dead but we'd still held our form,
as the roots were well snug and had to be overturned;
but the men wouldn't sing while they worked
and the men never sang while they worked, they'd drink coffee
and puff faux smoke in their winter jackets and work shirts.
You just try to keep your head on, when you've got a wool cap
and it's so cold, the limbs weren't dying, and it's so cold
we've upturned stumps for a living--snake-haired.
