Crossing Winter Snow

There was a woman
who walked between two canes,
a risky walk
caught between two worlds.
Her tracks pressed in new snow
made the sign of green grass, but

which is the true solid?
Matter bites with cold teeth,
her body, a map marled blue, confesses.

To cross the snowy road, she stops short
doubting the earth's fixtures. To her
the points of the compass spin
like incense spirals.
She starts again--
one boot down
asking,

then drives       both cane legs
to bolt firm the ground.
 

Copyright 1999,  Laura Snyder
 
Glimpse the mind of Laura Snyder through: Writers in Performance Anthology 1998, PoetsWest Literary Journal, Synapse, The Salt and the Light, Arcturus, Beyond Parallax, The Green Tricycle and The Horsethief's Journal. She writes all the way through Seattle's wettest winter.