Blaze, Peggy Shumaker (with Kesler Woodward)

Blaze


	East Coker

Last season's snow's slipped
back into sky. Red willow
branches broken by

browsing moose calves'
golden blond gambol
splay, unravel.

Frayed filaments
nipped then swallowed
travel now, transformed,

gangly moose muscle.
Bog weeds soon to be
fast under ice

ripple, sway.
Our flesh past its prime,
unsteady, quickens.

Blue blaze—
beyond any map.
More than one life-

time's gash, white bark
barked, love's deep
continent not yet

surveyed. One breath,
two. Fresh snow in the air,
not fallen.