His lines are plowed evenly,
Yet I can seldom predict
Where they will break into drifts.
Here by the bookshelf
Then there by the window
And last, by the blown-open door
Where suddenly I am falling
With the wild driving snow to
Some dark road in Kansas
Which in narrowing its shoulders
To a footpath
Catches me
Shallow like a snow angel, then
Sinking deeper in
The great, cold billows, I find depths
Made for burrowing
Snow caves
Beneath the howling night.
— Al Ortolani
Al Ortolani has been teaching in Kansas for 37 years. His poetry has appeared in the Midwest Quarterly, The English Journal, The Laurel Review and others. His second book of poetry Finding the Edge will be published by Woodley Press in 2011. He is currently co-editor of The Little Balkans Review.
The Coop: A Poetry Cooperative 