A Poetry Collection by William Doreski
Structural and Scriptual
Filthy snowbanks by the road
have toughened into structural
elements, intentions unknown.
Possibly they uphold claims
of imagined figures that haunt
the sky that weeps in my good eye.
Maybe they promise an afterlife
denser than marble or bronze.
Engines rant and gasp up the hill
toward the village where retired
citizens discuss the minutia
of their grandchildren’s complex
but prefabricated daily lives.
Besides propping up the landscape,
the snowbanks form a script that flows,
broken here and there by driveways,
for many miles. My late life
project is to learn to read this script.
I hope I’m not disappointed
by finding that it misspells
not only my name but my purpose.
Bone and Branch
Listening to hemlocks breathe
deep in their winter dormancy,
I remember living among
skyscrapers polished to catch
and glorify the light from the sea.
You were there, brisk enough
in your deshabille, your face
the brightest point of origin.
Now the forest reclaims us,
bone and branch meeting an angles
we didn’t study in school.
The hemlocks exhale pure oxygen
without waking from their drowse.
The skyscrapers are mostly bankrupt,
but still in tune with the dawn
North by Northeast
Even the slightest gust of weather
unnerves me now that I’m old.
Eight inches of snow, a joy
to a child, sickens me stupid.
The deep complaints of thunder
wrench my soul from its capsule
and spin it down endless stairs.
Driven rain drives me insane.
Can you fathom this fear in me?
Or does your old Girl Scout oath
require you to mock me for it?
This winter has hardly begun
to collect its debts. The roads
slicken with black ice, the cries
of jays and crows shatter
my attempts to settle myself.
When hurricanes lift the roof
and topple pines you’ll shrug
away the fatal shades of beige
and bury what you believe
are my remains while I watch
from the top of the last standing tree.
William Doreski lives in Peterborough, New Hampshire. He has taught at several colleges and universities. His most recent book of poetry is Venus, Jupiter (2023). His essays, poetry, fiction, and reviews have appeared in various journals.
The Carried Away 
Leave a comment