Todd Swift
Winter Storm Lothar
A winter storm budged the lid,
Thieving a tree on which we’d carved
Two names, a dove, a crown.
The force of it
Stove in the steeple
Displaced three cars
Across the newly-risen rectory
Lawn, desecrating love,
Or the growing
Symbol we had both picked
To hold it in
Place. Sly Lothar, another lover
Spied, from far above, your arms
Cradling my cries – turned
Wide in envy’s circle. Then
The whole sky was torn in two.
Page(s) 350
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