All That Glitters Is Not


Sun like oil slick on water
polishes icicles that hang
from the eave above the cabin window
Where there were none this morning
An act by the divine creator of art
And perhaps compensation



for last night's view of November rage
As though the devil ripped
my grandmother's handiwork from the table
And flung it in miniscule motifs
over and over against the glass
His hellhole howl as chilling
as a cat in an all-night heat


Stillness now except for prism light
dancing carnival colors across
the oak plank floor in front of the window
I'd believe that Good won this round
in the ongoing battle between forces
If I didn't remember a mittened hand
holding an icicle


The danger sign parents flashed
when 20 below turns icicles adhesive
The dagger point that might have served
as omen if I hadn't been seven
With eyes that saw diamonds
and with a mouth parched
by summer's want of a popsicle
If I hadn't paid with skin and blood
As we all have traded pain for forbidden pleasure
ever since sweet juice ran down Eve's chin
In the past year, I've
been to Kenya on a
poetry fellowship from
Summer Literary
Seminars, to Centrum in
Port Townsend, WA, for a
poetry residency,
received my eleventh
Pushcart Prize
nomination, won the 2007
Elizabeth R. Curry Prize
and finalist status for
the 2007 Joy Harjo
Poetry Award.  
Forthcoming are a
Rooftop Chaplet from
Adrienne Lewis' series
and a poetry/art
broadside from BrickBat
Review.  My fifth
chapbook, Blue Ribbons
at the County Fair, is a
collection of
first-place contest
winning poems recently
released by PWJ
Publishing.