Eighty-two and Won’t Be Dammed
A Golden Shovel Poem
by MFrostDelaney

“Bone-Pale, the recent snow fastens like fur to the river.”
from Early December in Croton-on-Hudson, by Louise Glück

A massive bruise around her eye, her bone-pale
face stares straight ahead amid–despite–the
chaos, the E-M-E-R-G-E-N-C-Y, like recent
falls. Get her secure before the snow
flies. Supervised assisted living. But she fastens
all her hope on going home. And so, like
that, she walks outside. Her soft-as-peach-fuzz-facial-fur
is shred, her eye just missed. But she’s attentive to–
will only have–what she wants: her life. It’s the
freedom–go and flow, her mind a mighty river



 

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