June Snow

Frost burrows

between the pine boards

of the sagging house

where the forest ends

and my regret begins

The morning sulks,

a sickly child-

pale, malnourished

Face stiff with silence

and judgement

The air spits hail

shredding tender shoots

My crops curl

blackened and crumbling

like the truth I refuse to harvest

Last summer’s turnips,

now gone woody

are boiled for the children

They chew

the punishment I earned

Their eyes watch

accusing flakes fall

Swirling

in a sky that mourns.

June snow.

Neighbor stands

head down

in his field

The wheat, once sunlit

now dressed for death

We don’t speak

I wonder

if he knows

what I’ve done.

I brought the frost.

The sun averts its eyes

turns its back

on my shame

The soil won’t feed us

The cows are thin

Wife’s hands shake

when she kneads stale bread

Is it hunger

or knowing

that makes her tremble?

I dream of the warmth

from the woman

past my gate

that night.

The one I beg God to erase

I’ve killed my family.

I’ve killed us all.