A little rough but number 2/30. Here we go April, here we go.


On the day after the last freeze

When puddles are mirrors

Diesel trucks heave their last shards of salt

Cascade over the curb and mix into sidewalk cracks.

I crunch the last shimmering  salt crystals of the year.

There was a black squirrel

All mangled and innards strewn on the street.

Shards had ground his coat grey

Ice had flattened the body.

Down the street a woman bends

So far over I fear her balance will fail

Her dog lapping around a few feet away,

She is ageless at this angle

Red knit hat and full length down black jacket.

20 something picking up a phone

30 something picking up a forgotten child’s toy

40 something picking up dog feces

50 something picking up glass shards.

Big pieces that glinted in the sun

I get closer and see a vodka bottle

Has seen better times.

A faint memory in the night of coarse noise.

I imagine her dog jumped on a bigger slice.

That the kids who threw it last night didn’t mean to turn

Glass ground into pebbles lost in the salt.

I want to say I’m sorry to her.

Want to pick up every shard and pebble of glass

And salt.

I keep walking,

Making sure to only crunch the salt crystals.


MK 04.02.13

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