First Death in Winter
New snow’s made our yard a white slate,
a Winter tale written out in shorthand.
Where deft paws notarized
a path to the trees, our weighted bouquet
of New Year’s balloons
wind-dragged across. I turn my attention
back to the table where
you sometimes sat.
Week-old white tulips sag in the vase.
When I carry them to the sink
the spent petals fall to the floor
like an unbroken line of footprints.
Solstice Literary Magazine April 2013
a Winter tale written out in shorthand.
Where deft paws notarized
a path to the trees, our weighted bouquet
of New Year’s balloons
wind-dragged across. I turn my attention
back to the table where
you sometimes sat.
Week-old white tulips sag in the vase.
When I carry them to the sink
the spent petals fall to the floor
like an unbroken line of footprints.
Solstice Literary Magazine April 2013