Left to Itself the Heart Could Almost Melt, Mend
When the Amish girl gets off the bus
she walks over and stomps
her small black boot into a drift
in front of McDonald's.
She is maybe new to winter
this far north and wants to know
its depth. Its give. Oh,
be careful. It already has you
by the night of your dress,
violet-black with white-dotted print.
Should Our Undoing Come Down Upon Us White
Bull City Press
Copyright © 2013 by Jill Osier
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission