Winter 2013: Poetry
The Blizzard of '78
by Darlene Pagán
Nothing stopped a school day but a power outage or a fever over 102˚, until that morning the snow blows one polar stream up into another and we have to dig trenches out the front door and climb out on all fours into a desert that drifts for miles. Winds whip powder up into miniature tornadoes. When it stops, our voices stick in our ears as if we’ve been sealed in a tomb. We hear the deafening thud of a frozen apple falling from a tree. Only from an upstairs window can we see the farm houses shrunk in the distance. My sister whines how she wants to go to school to finish coloring in pictures of peonies. My mother takes her hand. My father tugs the window up, crawls into the frame, and whistles before he leaps. Legs and arms spinning, he lands with a grunt; it’s as close to a giggle as he gets. Between the cornfields and horses, the trucks and tractors, they hustle even to bed, eating supper as if someone might steal their plates. Now, my father lies in the snow like a prince. Mother tucks her legs up and follows, her squeal a balloon leak. The height makes me queasy but my sister climbs the ledge and flies with her arms outstretched. They catch her like a prize, these strangers, waving me down, huddling together as if for a portrait in a phony winter scene.
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Enjoy the richness: thirteen poets, nineteen poems, and a diversity of style and craft. |
Three memoirists share their emotional truths in these slices-of-life. |
Our featured artist, as well as painters and photographers, provide colorful visions that will leave you seeing the world in new ways. |
Three emerging writers share talent and creativity far beyond their years. |
Learn more about the contributors who make us proud of our Winter 2013 edition. |
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