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Margaret Dornaus, USA

Melting Snow

At first, I'm not sure what I'm seeing. But mother has seen it too. She points to a gaunt man standing beneath a downspout next to an old Mom and Pop motel with a half-collapsed roof and weathered vacancy sign. He's dressed in flimsy trousers and a cotton shirt. Melting snow pours out in a waterfall that cascades over his head, his torso, his arms, his spindly legs. He scrubs himself with gloved hands . . . .

another setback
on this road I travel
without you . . .
I try to imagine
my place in the world


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