The Snow Falls More Like Bowling Balls Than Feathers
I used to believe I could build a bird
if I pulled enough down from a pillow.
The softness had to be balled in one sitting.
I’d manage a beak and legs somehow.
But life always interrupted my rituals
like a BB through crystal—the rupture
negligible, the scar tremendous, unlike bricks
who took all the glass inside
to hide in the carpet and bite
the unshod traveler. Let this be
a lesson for you: there are many ways
a window fills with snow. Remember that.
About the author:
Calvin Olsen holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Boston University, where he received a 2011 Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship. His poetry and translations have appeared in Nashville Review, Catch & Release, New Haven Review, Salamander, SWAMP, and others. He teaches and writes in Boston.