By William Baer
Timing’s everything. The vapor rises
high in the sky, tossing to and fro,
then freezes, suddenly, and crystalizes
into a perfect flake of miraculous snow.
For countless miles, drifting east above
the world, whirling about in a swirling free-
for-all, appearing aimless, just like love,
but sensing, seeking out, its destiny.
Falling to where the two young skaters stand,
hand in hand, then flips and dips and whips
itself about to ever-so-gently land,
a miracle, across her unkissed lips:
as he blocks the wind raging from the south,
leaning forward to kiss her lovely mouth.
William Baer, “Snowflake” from Borges and Other Sonnets. Copyright © 2003 by William Baer. Reprinted by permission of Truman State University Press.
Source: Borges and Other Sonnets (Truman State University Press, 2003)
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I retreat to my room,
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Nowhere Else to Go
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Wear another layer.
(Sounds like a dad.)
(Sounds like a mom.)
You say hand-me-down.
I say retro.
Walk some more.
(See what I did there,
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Backpack. New habits.
No thanks, don’t need a bag.
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