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A BRIEF RESPITE FROM THE USUAL PERCEPTUAL DIVIDES:
AFTER CHEMO I SKI THROUGH THE VERMONT WOODS IN ANOTHER CLIMATE CHANGE STORM
Pumped with steroids,
eyes rimmed pink, mouth sores raw, I scuttle through the ragged birch, pale, bald, lean and hunched.
Wind writhes, arches its back, whips its tail and leaves, branches crack and moan.
I ski deeper into the wild white roaring
til I’m not sure I’m human anymore, blind
with the whirling undertow of snow,
more a coagulation of dying things,
so I gladly let my sheddings be taken by the wind, its giant swirling paw batting me about
til I’m dizzy with a mixing and merging,
giddy with a blurring
of the usual divides,
the bulky ones the ego guards like a bone,
the ones that lift weights each day,
Anthropocene thugs of truth, that hold our species in first place and fuck up the rest of the planet.
Sometimes I don’t want to ski home though it’s filled with such good people.
Meanwhile the worried
wonder when I’ll return,
so I turn around, dutifully,
because I don’t want to disappoint.
On the couch
we drink warm milk,
wincing as the storm pummels our house,
apocalyptic, someone says,
yes, I say, numbly,
just so I can keep on thinking
how all my life I’ve wanted to disperse long enough for the moon or the owl to mistake my body for a field,
and though we think our minds are sealed in skulls the hair on our arms is the first to sense
an oncoming storm.
stay mixed, confused, humble, just a little while longer.
Copyright 2019 Adrie Kusserow