by J.R. Toriseva

This is the way we lurch into fall
and fall bumps gently over that cliff into the endless white

they stand with the dark matter streaming
from the ends of their fingers

attached to the back of their necks I stood waiting
for the book to flip to another page

looking in the index
winter was in all the entries

slowly we were all falling into the deep sleep
slipping down the iced walks

going glacial, a cave to be kept,
rumor preserved

before the thaw
of my next life

the morning glory climbs the mailbox
the smell of honeysuckle pierces

strawberries will congregate in the ditch
the goblet of winter closes down on us

the slow slide into Spring
the heavy dip

ice should crash
not go out slowly

not disappear so incrementally
that days after you forget to look

suddenly it’s gone
and you miss it

that slick coating
that extra layer between

You and pond, the thing that kept
you suspended, brought you home.

J.R. Toriseva’s “Dandelion Rites” was chosen for the anthology Days I Moved Through Ordinary Sound, published by City Lights. Along with being awarded the Mary Merritt Henry Prize in Poetry and a waiter scholarship to Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference, Toriseva’s work has appeared in or is forthcoming from The Cincinnati Review, Descant, Fulcrum, The Fiddlehead, CV2, Prism International, 14 Hills, Nimrod, The Adirondack Review, Grey Sparrow Journal, Soundings East, and JACKET.