Meg Smith


Now that I have my breath again
I will reach from the snow --
dark branch, crow's grasp,
and its reproach at sunset.
The snow will reach me,
these long white fingers,
this glaze, these still veins.
It will cover you
and these dark things will recede,
the snow will draw in the sun.

Meg Smith lives in Lowell, Mass. Her poetry has appeared in The Cafe Review, poetrybay.com, Astropoetica, and many others. She is a past member of the board of directors of Lowell Celebrates Kerouac! and works as a news and arts editor in the greater Boston area. She welcomes visits at poet-in-motion.net.



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