GETTING TO TOMORROW


Grass poking through snow.
Countless chickadees and titmice

at the feeder, shower seeds
on a fat blue jay below. The sun drags

its long fingers along a pine fence.
A sleepy St. Bernard heaves a sigh.

A man with knuckles raw
from beating his steering wheel,

raises bloodshot eyes to a winter
night’s first few pinprick sparks.




WORK EXPERIENCE

 
Snow falls
in street lamp
light
on the windowless,
fire-gutted
mill
where my uncle,
fresh
out of high school,
lost both thumbs
in a metal press—
his first day
on the job.