Now, Four Blizzards
The radio interrupts old songs, warns –
Severe winter storm!
Extremely hazardous conditions –
but you drive fast
into onslaughting snow.
Flakes like flashing stars
aim for my eyes,
divide at the windshield at the last moment.
The blizzard bends around us
like time through space
You drive at the speed of light
into dark, our convertible
hurtles away from the sun
in a blizzard of neutrinos.
When you turn on the headlamps,
light disappears into night.
We’re a star shimmering in the past,
listening to songs we cannot remember –
Except this: a blizzard disappeared
into the ocean, rimed the ship’s edges
white with ringing, stopped all thought
where metal ends.
The ship groaned, then dipped
so we saw only water,
a dark wall above us, dark
except for reflected white and red beams,
reflections of the ship’s running lights.
This light disappeared long ago.
Everything quickens around you –
surf rushes our feet.
Ice, sand, feldspar sting our skin.
Snow disappears in the ocean,
stirs sand with hoary frost
until waves melt the whiteness.
The blizzard salts your
shoulders, your eyelashes.
I can’t catch my breath.
A wild song vibrates through dunes,
disappears in hissing foam.
The world bends toward us,
the world bends away.
Katherine Gekker’s poems have appeared in Little Patuxent Review, Northern Virginia Review, and Little Lantern Press (November 2016).
Gekker’s poems, “…to Cast a Shadow Again,” were set to music by composer Eric Ewazen. Composer Carson Cooman set her poems, "Chasing Down the Moon," to music. Both are available on CD and iTunes.
--from the archives of The Broadkill Review
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