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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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In a Dusting of Snow

the Morning after 

an Argument with My Brother




complications of saying I'm sorry

crystallize where I stare out

the restaurant window.

In half circles from cars

turning in

and backing back out,

I hedge my thoughts,

as I read in tire treads

notched in snow

black asphalt and black ice

and a belief I hold to—

that I was right.


And then I see it,

where a young cook swings

his blue Pontiac into the lot,

and before parking

breeches a region

that's clear of cars—

to pop a wheelie on the ice,

swing that car completely

around—each side flashing

a moment in the sun—

                                                

and I know then that instead

of poring over tracks

where my hard stares are stored,

I will let go, whirl around

so that over the phone,

my brother will feel

my long distance love

as that old beat-up jalopy, my heart,

spins around

on the ice for him.


                          -Rodney Torreson