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Pif Magazine
6115 NE 185th Street
Kenmore, WA 98028
ISSN: 1094-2726
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A pitchfork stands astride the winter couple.
They seem yoked, though both are alone,
neither less so for touch.
The wind tries to luff a solution.
But nothing is wider than these gaps between tines.
The only thing he could give were all his words
and all his words were not enough.
Bear witness. The arc of hours
Asks hard questions.
In the truce called waiting,
who is remembering, who is inscribing,
who sees mica's glint amidst
the black and numerous thoughts?
In such sparse landscapes
where the onset of echo begins,
only the moving river never moves
only the changing sky never changes.
He was simply loving
for the balance of it, light on this side,
shadow on that.
But that was then, a sleepover until now.
Something happened.
No longer alone, the world forgives him.
He loses his wings, becomes flight,
leaves behind the rest, steaming
like a yellow hole in the snow.
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Tell us what you think. Email
talkback@pifmagazine.com
Michael Zack's poems have been published in Defined
Providence, Poetry Motel, Voices International, Boston
Poet, Whetstone, Zuzu's Petals, The Acorn, and
others.
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