Poetry by Jael
by jael bietsch

The snow melts as it falls, heavy
dropping to muddy leaves. Under the dark
light of the window,
I serve dinner and no one notices
the sauce is melted to
the skinless chicken breast and each rice
is fat and heavy with cream. Breaking easy
conversation with hush to better hear the breaking
news on channel 20. Nothing reaches us
under the heavy eaves, insulated against the cold
with our own quiet layer of snow. Nothing worth remembering.

Moving through schedule, unwinding
in careful sync. Under another layer
of quilts, sprawled heavily across fat feather pillows,
body warmed, we drift in and out of conversation,
wisps of news breaking through sleep. Two blocks away
a man was dying while we were sitting down to dinner.
Ripped open and bleeding onto frozen concrete.
Two blocks away,we murmur how close,
cold beating its way into our chests
as we check the locks.

There is no snow in the morning
and the parking lot has been swept clean.
When I slow, melted
snow traces rivulets down the windshield
and I wonder if his eyes whelmed
heavy with fat stars that puddled
and traced his cheeks as his warm body
melted broken into the concrete.

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    © 1995 Jael Bietsch

    This site created and maintained by Off the Page Graphics.
    March 8, 2000