A man manufactures snow

while he ashes his cigarette

under a kumquat tree,

 

its orange thumbs

& yellow-green leaves:

an inadvertent headdress

 

of an early morning alchemist

guiding the froth

onto weak grass

 

for a winter party.

Inside this

chain-link corral,

 

kids with stains

run figure eights

without jackets.

 

They are planes

landing at Sky Harbor.

Today they will be plows.

 

& it will all be gone

by naptime:

the coats, rubber boots,

 

the snowmen

with red rocks for eyes,

the hills made

 

with mittened hands,

all of it transient,

& one boy

 

will not let go.

He will be on his stomach

crying in the slush,

 

hands like steel scoops

in a bulk peanut bin,

shoveling melt

 

into his mouth,

cheeks burning chapped

as he dissolves

 

into mud.

He yowls for weather.

Starlings quiet.

 

 


 

Allyson Boggess holds an MFA in poetry from Arizona State University and was one of the 2013 winners of the City of Phoenix Streetscape Poetry Project. She recently read her ekphrastic poetry at the Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art as a part of an ongoing art and poetry series. Her poems have been published by PANK Magazine and The Collagist. She currently teaches writing at Arizona State University and the Harvard Extension School. She blogs about writing at http://www.allysonboggess.com.

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