Frozen In
–Annie Finch

Venice, December

Ours are the only mouths
to taste with this smothering slow
touch, and the only steps
to sink like bellsounds and cave
deep into the marble snow.Women who go to the window
to push their arms out to the snow
and then bring the shutters back in
follow us as we fall
past their eyes where the black night lives.We are snowflakes at last, as the thick
never locked, never closed doors
follow us through squares of light
their windows have left on the snow.
Once again, warmth that falls,
again, though our tracks fill and slow.

Photo by Raisa Milova on Unsplash

Edge, Atlantic, July
–Annie Finch

I picked my way nearer along the shocking rock shelf,

hoping the spray would rise up to meet me, myself.

Seagulls roared louder and closer than anything planned;

I looked out to see and forgot I could still see the land.

Lost in a foaming green crawl, I grew smaller than me;

shrunk in a tidepool, I heaved, and I wondered. The sea

grew like monuments for me. Each wave and its coloring shadow,

bereft, wild and laden with wrack, spoke for me and had no

need of my words anymore. I was open and glad

at last, grateful like seaweed and glad, since I had

no place on the rocks but a voice, and the voice was the sea’s:

not my own. Just the sea’s.

Photo by Shane Stagner on Unsplash

In Cities, Be Alert
–Annie Finch

You may hear that your heartbeat is uneven

and let new tension climb around your shoulders,

thinking you’ve found the trick for going mad.

But try to keep a grip on where you are.

Remember: all around you is pure city;

try to stay alert. On the wide streets,

so empty late at night, streaking in glass,

the color of an alley, or the fall

of a sideways flicker from a neon sign

may utterly and briefly disconcert you—

but as you go, you’ll find that noise is worse.

Prepare for noise. But never scream. Even tensing

ears too far in advance can sharpen sirens,

and as for horns. … When you’re back to

your normal rhythm after such encounters,

just try to stay alert. You’ll never know

exactly who is coming up behind you,

but the sudden movement of pedestrians

will finally, of course, be what disarms you.

Photo by Malte Schmidt on Unsplash