Winter for a Moment Takes the Mind
{An Umbrella Special Feature}
Winter for a Moment Takes the Mind
{An Umbrella Special Feature}
Christi Krug
has been a frequent contributor to Personal Journaling and Writers Digest, and her fiction and poetry have appeared in Insight, The Fossil, our own Bumbershoot, and elsewhere. She works as a writing coach in Vancouver, Washington and avoids frozen juice concentrates. Website. —Back to “Extra” Contents— |
The Snow of Grape JuiceIt snowed one time agoSoupy dribbles filling chinks in the walk White clods in the weeds behind our apartment Mostly we get the everyday snow of hairy snowflakes Growing from the freezer ceiling. My brother stands with the door open Airing small curd cottage cheese and half a browning apple, Takes a can of grape juice; it’s a good day. He pries the lucky silver coin lid, Plops the slush into avocado green Tupperware, the insides of the pitcher darkening Purple like someone yelling. Theodore runs faucet water. Laced with fluoride, The last hope of teeth we don't brush. Mix contents with three cans cold water. Whoosh, one, for the punch-bruise on my arm, Two for the school bells that ring when I’m late, Three for the days Mother won’t get up in the morning. From a sink bouquet of fallen forks, butter knives, An egg beater, Theodore plucks a spoon. Three cans water swirl fast into purple. I wait on tiptoe, the way I scout the window for snow. Theodore stirs faster, faster, a spoon storm shaking the world With the nick-nock and rattle of plastic walls Lilac bubbles climbing higher A deep purple crater down the middle And it all goes around and around.
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