LISA RICHTER: A POEM
like feathers. It comes
to rest on the roofs
of cars, the sleeping
of cars, the sleeping
cattle of these dark,
narrow streets,
and on the streets
themselves,
their pastures,
where feathers fall like
snow, come to
rest on the backs
of cattle
sleeping like parked cars
in dark, frozen pastures,
their streets.
Somewhere, a sidewalk
pushes against
a shovel. A sheet
of paper scrapes
against a pen. Words
erase to clear the page.
from Closer to Where We Began (Tightrope Books, 2017). By permission.Lisa Richter's second book will be published by Frontenac House in 2020. She lives in Toronto.