Poetry Issue 13

   Issue # 13 : January - March 2011

Kerri Webster



Winter Sketch


      Let’s play snowed in. Let’s play all sound
      drowned out by storm. Let’s substitute weather
      for trees, let’s rest like mercury sub-zero.
      Inside privacy, light’s pulled thin. Slo-mo
      the roads gap from salt, machinery gentling.
      We pull climate inside our chests, swaddle
      cotton batting around the gilt deer,
      sssh. Having lost our wonder under cars,
      down vents—we felt the estrangement
      as low-grade fever but suddenly it’s back.
      Saying, stop clicking. Saying, spherical
      hour. Saying, stand in the yard post-
      midnight and see how loud your breath.