Ice Storm
- Ice Storm
It’s near the end; for weeks nowyou’ve loved me the way a cat
might leave a stunned mouseon the doorstep. Wax scabs
the nightstand, and the moonis a cold callus beyond
the blinds. Frozen branchesfall—gunshots, or the echoes
of gunshots. And even thoughwe’ve stacked ourselves like kindling
beneath the blankets, nightis shoveled on us, and we’re silent—
our words are match headswith the sulfur scratched off. [End Page 120]
Mary Angelino
Mary Angelino’s poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Best New Poets 2010, Meridian, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Nimrod, Shenandoah, and The Journal, among others. Originally from Los Angeles, she now lives in Fayetteville and teaches English at the University of Arkansas, where she earned her MFA.
