by Michael Dunwoody
When snow continued most of the night
drifting to several feet in places
the weatherman got it right for once
but morning spills a blue blaze of day
kinetic as the breath that starts a song
into the Poletown amphitheater of I-75
pulling Detroit out of the jumble of night
picks out the Fisher Bldg. the incinerator
dark St. Josaphat’s spikey decal stuck
to the glittery grill of the RenCen.
Soft sculpture kids in primary colours
drive sleds and old tires and boxes
down the steep embankment
through the rambling tracks of dogs
and the evergreen flaming of juniper and yew
their dark faces glossy as berries.
They disappear into puffs of snow
or spin onto the empty x-way
unconcerned as mice playing in a rail bed
in the undefined moment between trains.