Showshoe Song

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flung unsifted from bluest above 
snow casts light on me in sparks 
Behold all ye that kindle fire 
That compass yourselves about with sparks 
Walk in the light of your fire and 
In the sparks which ye have kindled 
This shall ye have of mine hand— 
Ye shall lie down in sorrow (2 Ne. 7: 10-11) 

glide in grease of powder 
“I had an ice pick for a dad” (Frederick Seidel) 

snowmobiles=smash=ice rocks=shrieking snowshoe teeth
“If you touch it with your greasy fingers, 
it’s yours to keep” (author/mentor) 

the dog has her entire head in a snowbank; 
pulls out frosty-faced 
I will not editorialize willnotwillnotwillnot—she was cute 
Bad writer

sunglasses; blue sky, moody mountain, darking trees
I won $1,500 for my essay Istillhadstudentloans 

no glasses: bleach sky, blue trees on phosphorescing snow
“Maybe I should disappear or die 
so the kids will have to grow up” (wife) 

cast airborne from highest ramp’d peak tendril’d 
doppelganger watches me all afternoon 
“That’s creepy” (sister) 

with no hiking staff drifts deceive me 
“you have harmed your students” (author/mentor II) 

I brace with broken maple, stunted pine 
“Come home with honor or don’t come home” (father) 

in the bending have I so stressed this pine as to tilt its future?