02-10-2019, 06:41 AM
I found this in an old poetry journal (The Antigonish Review) that someone gave me about fifteen years ago.
Forty Below in Dewington, Alberta
by Beverly Hocking
Lips crack and sting.
The dogs limp out
to pee frightened
and shrink back in,
two small warm rounds
by the cold back door.
The car sits numb,
its dumb forehead to the wind.
Found your last letter
cold and white
in the box by the road-
don't know how long it had been there.
Walked home stiff in tears.
It's even too cold
to bury what's dead.
Forty Below in Dewington, Alberta
by Beverly Hocking
Lips crack and sting.
The dogs limp out
to pee frightened
and shrink back in,
two small warm rounds
by the cold back door.
The car sits numb,
its dumb forehead to the wind.
Found your last letter
cold and white
in the box by the road-
don't know how long it had been there.
Walked home stiff in tears.
It's even too cold
to bury what's dead.
Time is the best editor.