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  • Ice Storm, 1996
  • Jim Whiteside (bio)

the world shone    everything sheathed   in a layer of glass as if preserved   in thick lacquer   I pressed my young face   against a window   felt the burn of the outside   trying to come in   etched my name in one   of the fogged panes   Aunt Crane’s car was frozen shut   keeping her   from her postal route in the country   when the service   sent two men blowtorch and heatlamp   in hand   to unstick the doors they couldn’t   No mail today   black smoke rose continuously   from our chimney   my father sending me   outside   on trips to the woodpile nothing moved   our yard a study   in stillness at night   I read fireside from   National Geographic it’s new vocabulary   Ursus maritimus   Nunavik the things in the world   that were not   Tennessee the stubborn pieces   of this world   that would not thaw [End Page 113]

Jim Whiteside

Jim Whiteside holds degrees from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro and Vanderbilt University. His poems appear or are forthcoming in Barn Owl Review, Forklift, Ohio, the minnesota review, Phoebe, and Post Road, among others. Originally from Cookeville, Tennessee, he now lives in Greensboro, North Carolina.



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