I watch pieces fall and blanket the ground—
the layers of snowfall hide untended weeds.
I wonder how it would feel to cover
my bare hands in snow—warmth spreading
in my fingers to a numbness. My mother laughs when
she watches me fall like a blanket on the ground.
She calls for me to come back inside. I cannot save
a frostbitten child. She doesn’t call twice.
I wonder how much distance I covered
to follow the tire tracks, my father’s tracks,
which disappear in layers over time.
I watch the pieces fall and blanket the ground,
and I find myself unable to return. Out of breath
in an expanse of white—the bare trees do not shiver.
I wonder how I would find cover
until someone finds me on my back
stretching my arms out to take in all the snow.
I watch the pieces fall and blanket the ground
and wonder how it would feel to be covered.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 2.
Darrell Dela Cruz’s work has appeared in Saw Palm, The Minetta Review, Crab Orchard Review, and Studio One. He has a blog where he analyzes poems: retailmfa.blogspot.com. He graduated with an MFA in Poetry from San Jose State University.
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