This Earth is Not a Novel
at all, but small and fine like the lines flowing
from a ball point pen; our lives are being crafted
carefully, the paper we rest upon is more
like a poem about a snow-capped mountain
in Alaska, about how we dance there
on its crags and warm our bodies as characters
light fires that glow near the crevasse, about
how we learn to speak the language
of snow: utvak, pirta, muruaneq — snow carved
in block, light snowstorm, soft deep snow.
And as the snow fades to damp rain,
(kanevvluk) I am ready to be convinced
there will always be more stanzas, that
the poets will continue to master the language
of alder, aster, iris and the flakes will continue
to drift and curve the stems in the vowels of snow.
|Arts & Crafts Menu Border - Ca. 1910
Alicia Hoffman holds an MA in Poetry from the State University of New York at Brockport and currently teaches English Literature
at Bishop Kearney High School. Her poems have appeared in journals such as Redactions: Poetry and Poetics, Red Wheelbarrow,
and Remark, as well as the online journals Poetry MidWest, The Flask Review, Whimperbang, Flutter Poetry Journal
and Poets Against The War.