D Dina Friedman
In the silence between sounds
search for edges
the hard rubbing
of bark against air,
a tree by the river’s shore
in the overflow ice.
on that slippery surface.
the air’s gray hues,
slivers of sun
the water’s peaks
glissando two squirrels
whizzing on a branch’s edge
stalking the unattainable sky
Snow, frou-frou on the rooftop,
a floozy’s feather boa, her skirt tight
as ice over a running stream. I am in love
with the permission afforded by muted light,
nemesis of the sun god’s sweaty power, like the suited man
in the back of the orchestra, banging the bass drum
to silence the cry of violins. Winter’s unsettled pitch
hovers, a hawk tracking sleepy mice.
Soon we’ll discover a carcass
abandoned by the cat, who lolls on the vents,
yawning his slate-sky indifference. Rain in the forecast.
Promise of the rooftop starlet melting
like the Wicked Witch of the West,
and the lover who knocks at your door, all flowers
and resolution under the crust. This might be the last day
the narrow plank, icy and camouflaged,
holds track over the water, color of desiccated
olives, before giving way to its inevitable swell.
D. Dina Friedman has published in many literary journals and received two Pushcart Prize nominations. She is the author of two YA novels, Escaping Into the Night (Simon and Schuster) and Playing Dad’s Song (Farrar Straus Giroux) and one book of poetry, Wolf in the Suitcase (Finishing Line Press). Originally from New York City, she now lives in western Massachusetts, where she is currently working on a memoir: Imperfect Pitch. Visit her website at www.ddinafriedman.com