First Snow
By Abigail Wender
If she were alive, I'd telephone.
She at her window,
I at mine
as snow falls aslant.
She at her window,
headlights sweeping out the old year
as snow falls aslant.
Into my hands rushes her voice
again, as headlights sweep out the old year.
I hear her, "Come right now!"
Into my hands rushes her voice
the night he died. There was an ice storm.
I hear her, "Come now!"
Nothing could be done. I waited
the night my brother died. Ice storm.
Couldn't survive.
Could we be done? Wait.
At dawn I drove to the city
he couldn't survive
and found her shaken, aghast.
Dawn, I drove to the city,
she was alone at last,
shaken, aghast,
she was at last mine.
She was alone,
a diffused mine,
at last she was mine,
an excavated mine.
If she were alive today, I'd call.
Copyright Credit: Abigail Wender, "First Snow" from Reliquary. Copyright © 2021 by Abigail Wender. Reprinted by permission of Four Way Books, www.fourwaybooks.com.
Source: Reliquary (Four Way Books, 2021)