Tuesday, February 13, 2007

It's kind of narrative. Although I like the story of it, it doesn't quite feel "special enough" right now. Any comments are appreciated. I might need to cut it up.

The Snow Queen

the rope, she said, is to catch you when you fall through

at the pond behind the Berenger’s
Claire’s mother knotted Claire’s double bladed skates

(for babies her mother said) after Claire
failed five times, blue mittens between her teeth

her mother fastened a clothesline
around Claire’s waist
and shoved
large hand between the shoulder blades

Claire rocked forward
until she hit her knees (the ice so, so hard)
or Claire swooped
until her breath punched out of her jaws

her mother sat smoking
on her plaid blanket
among the iced weeds

staring over Claire’s red knit cap
at the starlings shaking the snow from the pines

Claire watched her as she flew past, wondered
if the line were strong enough

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