Slush on the sidewalk
Snow in the doorway,
Beaks in the salad—
A seabird's attacking.
Shells were the home,
Yolk was the baby,
Whites were the mother
Hugging the offspring.
Home: where the flesh
Wraps in a blanket,
Whips to an omelet,
Stares out the window.
Springtime: a woodpecker sleeps in the branches;
White and black beak—its redness its life.
Summer: the woodchuck devours the garden—
Poison its lair and pitchfork its torso.
Autumn: the crows stand on the pikes—call them cornstalks.
Winter: the straggler is freezing,
She shatters the ice on the window
And batters stalactites—
Calling for springtime you flushed after dinner.
"Karen Cooke Phillip keeps the basement freezer of her new Anchorage house stocked with food to ward off homesickness. There is a whole king eider sea duck, including feathers and head. And she has three plastic bottles filled with seal oil: liquid gold to a Yupik Eskimo like Mrs. Cooke Phillip."
—KIM SEVERSON, The New York Times, Published: April 7, 2011
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/08/us/08alaska.html
Return to Toylit
Subscribe to Toylit
