Apr 22 2009
in which alaska’s breakup season lets me write a poem using spring as a metaphor for death
No, I’m totally serious. I actually wrote it a few years ago, back before I had a car and took the bus way too much, but the idea is the same. The season described here is really just spring in name only, though; it’s actually breakup, like I described in my previous entry.
As I said, though, it’s much nicer now–well, today was gray and kind of windy, and there’s a huge difference between cloudy 40° and sunny 40°, but there’s still clean pavement and the grass isn’t greening up yet but we can see it again, and the temperatures should be edging into the fifties in the next week or so. I might actually be able to wear a skirt soon without freezing! Would have done that Tuesday if I’d known the weather would be that way. The best part is that even though all the grass is all still dead and brown, now and then you can still smell something that–well, I suppose it’s actually, I don’t even know, suddenly uncovered rotting grass and leaves or something else nasty, but it smells like life, like green and growing things.
Anyway, poem, which I’m sharing because I can and also because it was already published a couple years ago in Understory, my uni’s little literary magazine.
