In Southeast Lower Michigan, a Chance of Snow after Midnight
The wind repeats itself
and repeats itself, galloping down
All the usual causeways. Those on the outskirts
Remain there, vigilant on the outskirts, renewing their vows
To the outposts.
Night will pass
By—a boat low in the water, motor cut—whether or not you sleep,
Whether or not you sense the snow beginning, twinge
In a dream, twinge in the trapezium
Bone of the left hand. When the day comes it will break
too bright—the light insisting
On perimeters, every branch and ledge handfasted
To its outline in white and shriven, shriven. Just look
At what these winters have done
To me. Here I am standing on the snow where it has fallen
thick over the creek and crusted. Here,
Where the creek still sings
its little broken song underneath.
CAVE WALL PRESS, LLC
Molly Spencer’s poetry has appeared in FIELD, Gettysburg Review, New England Review,
Ploughshares, and elsewhere. Her critical writing has appeared at Colorado Review, Kenyon
Review Online, The Rumpus, and Tupelo Quarterly. Molly holds an MFA from the Rainier
Writing Workshop and is Poetry Editor at The Rumpus. She teaches writing at the
University of Michigan’s Ford School of Public Policy.
NOTE: A phrase in this poem is patterned off the phrase "Just look what the mountains/
have done to me," from Vievee Francis's poem "Everywhere and Here Too."