What Rough Beast | Poem for December 31, 2019

D. Dina Friedman
Uprooted

Nested in your arms,
we sail blind through the snow-scape,
God’s beaten egg-whites.

Branch by fallen branch,
we swerve, hurl ourselves over
hills, hearing nothing

but sputter echoes,
feeling nothing but cold slush
spraying silky scarves.

No map. Not a clue
of where we might be going,
we trample, slicing

through virgin forest,
crunching dreams of sleeping moles.
Under our thick wheels

blades darken the snow.
We laugh, kiss, keep on cutting
our country’s bare throat.

D. Dina Friedman is the author of the two young adult novels. Escaping Into the Night (Simon and Schuster, 2006) was recognized as a Notable Book for Older Readers by the Association of Jewish Libraries, and a Best Books for Young Adults nominee by the American Library Association. Playing Dad’s Song (FSG, 2006) was recognized as a Bank Street College of Education Best Book. She is also the author of the poetry chapbook Wolf in the Suitcase (Finishing Line Press 2019). Her work has appeared in CalyxCommon Ground ReviewLilith, Wordpeace, PinyonNegative CapabilityNew Plains ReviewSteam TicketBloodrootInkwell, and Pacific Poetry, among other journals. Friedman holds an MFA from Lesley University. She lives in Hadley, Mass., and teaches at the University of Massachusetts Amherst.

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