Read more poems by Ron Rash: Ron Rash Poems at Poetry X.
Some thought she had slipped, the plank glazed slick with ice, or maybe already cold beyond care, drowsy and weary, bare feet tempting a creekbed's promise of sleep, though she struggled out, her trail a handprint of stars rising toward a dazzle of white where sun and snow met. They found her homespun dress, underclothes, before they found her, her eyes open as the sky, as cold, as far away. Her father climbed the nearest tree, brought down green sprigs, berries bright as blood, weaved a garland for her brow, and that was how they left her, wearing a crown, unburied, knowing they'd never hunt here or build a cabin where she undressed, left their world as death closed around her like a room and she lay dying on the snow, a bride awaiting her groom.
Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 20 May 2013 2:31 AM | Viewed: 3306 times