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Sandy Longhorn
SELF-PORTRAIT: NOVEMBER
Walking home in the first hard freeze
with ice building in layers on the slick surfaces
of roads and bridges, my breath plumes
before me and I cough on the brittle air.
I tread on the safer grass-lined ditch,
the creek bank’s thick mud, stiff like setting plaster.
The sun fades behind the trees, and I am insular,
wrapped in a dim, sky-heavy day and counting
the weeks until spring unlocks winter’s heavy door.
When the forecast calls for the worst,
I let the tap in the stainless steel sink
run all night and I dream of songbirds,
warblers and orioles, their pipe-cleaner legs
trapped on iced-over branches, too exhausted
to do anything but sing. Their orange
and yellow feathers drop to the snow–
false flames I gather in my bare hands
and bring to my mouth in hunger.
I wake to the sound of the water heater kicking in,
to the metallic bite of birch bark and rust in my throat.
–from Rattle #19, Summer 2003
April 7th, 2010 at 10:04 am
Self-Portrait” by sandy Longhorn captures the feelings that a long winter ensues, often a dichotomy and leaves one with a hunger for spring. A strong poem that I can continue to feel deep inside winter.
November 24th, 2010 at 1:49 am
feeling is good in a poem.lol
I rather write great poetry over writing to get it published because if you ever experienced looking over your poem in a journal somewhere,
you really hope it’s something like this poem here.
February 19th, 2011 at 3:43 pm
Thanks so much for both of these comments.