The opening stanza of this poem really stuck with me, for some reason.
I spent a really long time hunting it down after Krieger showed it to us in class today.
So, to ensure I don't lose it again, I'll make it a cozy home in my blog
by Ron Koertge
Until then, every forest
had wolves in it, we thought
it would be fun to wear snowshoes
all the time, and we could talk to water.
So who is this woman with the gray
breath calling out names and pointing
to the little desks we will occupy
for the rest of our lives?