Poetry/Creative non-fiction/fiction

Brisk Air January 10, 2012

Filed under: Poetry — jessicacolleenmcdermott @ 4:58 am
Tags: , , ,

Idaho plays dead in the winter. The maze of cotton woods

Become bare brown knots.  The slew sits still, solidifying

Deeper and deeper in cracked bubble sheets.


My cat disappears most days. Her fur thick as a rabbits,

Glows. I can barely make her out as she paws through

Snow towards my, Here kitty kitty, here kitty kitty.


At sunrise, my gaze catches east, towards the Menan

Buttes. The sun’s blanket of gold shatters the peaks.

Light stretches to the box car barn, and the feeding

Shed, erasing the shadow of numbing air from the

Gray wood.


2 Responses to “Brisk Air”

  1. kvennarad Says:

    Death and sleep are the two most common metaphors for winter, so I love the wryness of ‘playing dead’. There’s nothing flashy here, but you leave me with a very vivid impression of low, winter sun.

    Marie Marshall

  2. Katelyn Says:

    First line and last line…brilliant. Captivating, and insightful. I can see our good old Rigby,
    Idaho–it’s spot on.

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