16 Stanzas in February
By Talvikki Ansel
The cow pasture and starlings
that settle all at once like a blanket,
dark raisins over the cows' heads,
*
lone goose, flying down river
third violin, does it hope to catch up
*
did it not notice the gathering,
others heaving themselves from the pond?
*
third violin in the shadow of
the violas, who would like to be a viola
*
rich-voiced as a blue-tick coonhound.
*
In February, sun edges the tree trunks
like a talent still to show itself,
maybe the third violin would slide into
the seconds,
*
the adolescent in "Personal Use Typing"
realize she could slow down and make no mistakes,
*
an acceptable skill
for the world of work.
*
When a new chicken was introduced
she was first boss of the flock but now they all
get along: scrutinize my boots,
mittened hand reaching into the grain pail,
*
the radius of a white bowl.
*
To see them together is to forget
one was the boss, one ate a mouse,
one was intent on finding seeds
*
in the curved wrists of the maple roots.
*
The latch on the front door opens
as you bring in firewood, blows open
the back door
*
sends cats up the walls of the mudroom
to cling to the shelf
with its faded bottle of soap bubbles,
*
an empty wand, frozen, open-mouthed,
*
March, all that deceptive light
but no fruits yet.
From
FIELD
Spring 2018
http://www2.oberlin.edu/ocpress/
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