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forecast

            for a time
a fox remains
     a fox
         a deer
a deer
          then decay
the fox is all
foxes
        all deer

 

       *

            not quartz
movement
then
       not atomic
clocks
          but ruins
tell us time
                 or poinsettias
unseasonable as weather
now is

 

       *

we title our grief
war

 

       *

     shadowed by a
government not ready
for action
            but acting
now
       though we hover
like weather around
a mountain

This poem appears in the 2003 Anthology
View all poems by Kaia Sand

 
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