Garden of Verse: "Traveling to Winter" in the Scissortail Quarterly

 

    

The Scissortail Quarterly, a new attractively produced English poetry journal, has three of my poems in its August issue. This is their issue No. 4. Editor Brian Fuchs also published three poems of mine in his previous issue back in March. This is getting to be a habit! 

Because the journal publishes in paper, but not online, I cannot include a link to the poems here. Instead, I am posting one of the poems in the latest issue, "Traveling to Winter," here. It may be a little early to start worrying about winter, but, hey, like everything else it will be here sooner than you think. Here's the poem:

Traveling to Winter

 

So much darkness to contend with

Though lights appear in the lengthening night,

still the winds blow like the trumpet of a distant foe

And the ice makes for a scrabble

Not even the trashcan stands upright

I rescue it in the morning:

A half-drowned swimmer, gasping on its side

Are we all not merely a strong blow away

from some permanent stranding?

 

We watch weak vessels beat out to sea

Familiar figures disappear, like road signs gagged by snow

We look to the hungry ocean

Can we even wave goodbye?

Too late!

“Farewell!” we shout, “Good luck on the further shore!”

but we know they can’t hear us.

We turn about. Count heads. Anyone else missing?

 

We clutch each hour to our breasts

We are made of minutes

We dress in our heaviest apparel

Geer up, check provisions – call ahead

Trace the route on the map

Walk about the sled slowly, checking the tires

Did the roadmen cheat us,

their features oiled by Turner and time

The dogs howl

The clouds make faces

Babies cry behind doors closed to us

I would check for ammunition,

but my firepower is in my mouth

I ask the dentist to pull out all my teeth,

but she is wise to my folly and refuses

 

A lengthy journey cannot be undertaken

without acknowledgment of suffering

Birds will lose a feather or two

No further elders go before me in my father’s line

I watch the smoke signals for rumors of births,

but no announcements come

Take care, mon frere, to remain on the trail

We walk it together, my shadow and I 

To learn more about the Scissortail Quarterly, or purchase an issue, see their website at Scissortail Quarterly