Thursday, January 10, 2013

Slow-motion Huskies

The helicopter blades spin very slowly
but make no sound. The chopper is drawn 
silently upwards
as if raised on strings, up over the polar caps,
over the glacial blankets,
over the wad of photographers,
over the matchstick ski lift, over the lodge,
as far below, clouds of powder billow
from where a rogue sled team,
gnawed free of their harnesses,
leap and wade through the deep snow
so slowly it hardly looks like they're moving.
The barrels strapped to their necks
are filled not with liquor or hot broth
but with plastic explosives.
Their eyes are icy blue,
their pupils frozen gnats as they search
for that hot needle dropped straight down
from heaven into the drifts.
The last dog in line will step on it,
but not notice, even though its paw prints
will become freckled with red.

No comments:

Post a Comment