Jami Macarty

            A pressing descent starts winter in an open field

wrapped in a coldness that comes when she remembers

some bitter familiars

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She tromps the chronic fence line

                        wind bending her head down walking stick poling

the snow          bores out her destiny

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Winter whites contrast what is not supplied with a covering

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            Those snow angels

            There was

                        in some of their fitted mouths

                                    fostering without abandoning 

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The smothering of snow suddenly a way of leaving behind

            these griefs still awaiting reply          

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            Nowhere she has reached non-silently

Silhouetted trees

unseen beasts living among them

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Is that not what daughters know?

[ … ]

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She walks toward the timberline as the timberline gets closer

                        A daughter on purpose achieving her way

Legs across the clean acreage training to separate

            unmarked from marked

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She is more moving than waiting within this happened

She walks in snow

without refusing

without snowballing or sticking it back together

            This cold record within another of entirely

            accepting the clean gift of her life