Aurora Borealis


Would the Innuit live to
wear his new

coat of seal fur?

Would the moose live to
swagger a bit with that

rack of antlers?

Would I live to wear the
vest that fits so perfectly

with all its useful
pockets and flaps and

almost invisible
silent zippers?

Would the Spring arrive again on
time after winter

living through itself and its
green urgencies

till Summer?

Would the clouds one day form
readable sentences on their

own or disperse into various
wayward puffs as usual

into the general atmosphere?

Would this poem live to be
read by at least one

living person
who might tuck it onto one of his or

her own vest pockets and ride
out on his or her

icy toboggan over the living
tundra in search of the

most glorious
aurora borealis?

6/18/15 (from White Noise in This World Silver in the Next)

Categories: Poems

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