Should Our Undoing Come Down Upon Us White

[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

Even while we talked, snow must have been falling. Now it's a scar:
I've mostly failed in the rooms

of honesty and forthrightness. Let me
explain. A child says, Stand anywhere you want

right here. I watch her sled. Orange plastic, busted,
duct-taped in two places, it barely waits for her

before shooting the steep drive. At four,
she is all snot, bangs, and spunk. She plods and sculpts.

After many tries, she settles into something
the sled finds true.

Jill Osier
Poetry
Volume CLXXXIII, Number 1
October 2003