The Snow is Wide • George Eklund

My eyes are so small
When I touch them with my thumbs.
A glass of gin rotates 16 hours
There are many ways to move
From the shadows of thinking.

The dreams get stranger at midday—
Beautiful things distorted
In their new wreckage
And things I’d like to say.

I waited all day for the meteor,
The spitting snow electric,
The stuff on my desk held
In the silence of a maze

All day while waiting to die
I have wondered
How to put your breast in a sentence
In order to love you again

The mind is the slowest
Part of the world
To heal


Eklund's work has appeared in ABZ, The American Poetry Review,
Beloit Poetry Journal. Cimarron Review,
Crazyhorse, EPOCH, The Iowa Review, Laurel
Review, The Massachusetts Review, New Ohio Review,
The North American Review, Quarterly West,
Sycamore Review, and Willow Springs, among others.
Additionally he has recently published "Wanting to Be an Element,"
a chapbook with Finishing Line Press; "Each Breath I Cannot Hold,"
a full length volume published by Wind Publications;
and "The Island Blade," a full length book with ABZ Press.