top of page

Photo by: Liwana Bringelson

Now, Frozen

       Created for springtime, 
my shoulder    wants
walking dogs joyful leash tugging
forest paths

games of catch      balls
low     leather mitts graceful            
              into hands       
                          of small children
seeds     turned
into        sharp scented   wet earth  
peas   beans radish   lettuce   green grass   rhubarb shoot 
  water and hoe
fork edger rake   trowel
This year’s shoulder      refuses
to   lift   hold          embrace   
whirl             twirl in circles                the size of the moon
seized       into throb knife-blades of pain
frozen immobile 
Common, say doctors
in athletes and women     
    years of strain               overreach
all we have carried
through so many seasons
now wintered in.

Now, Frozen
(in Gyroscope Review 19-4 Fall 2019, p. 32
bottom of page