The DMQ Review

Copyright © 2002 Bob Dornberg

Cruel Summer

I realize I'm no better
than the wrought iron table my coffee cup sits on,
lattice work design letting the sun

pass right on through. It's amazing
what we'll let slip through our clumsy fingers
I said out loud

as the days passed on & on.
Who'd want to live any other life?
Cars are bought & sold;

phones go on ringing through the night
which is maybe only a symbol for the unanswered
call or maybe it's your one big break

unbroken. I can only imagine
what the trees might look like,
a thin layer of snow on every single branch.

Tree, which is a symbol for what?
Snow, which
represents what? Something cold?

Nathan Pritts
Copyright © 2002

Nathan Pritts received his MFA from Warren Wilson College and is working toward his Ph.D. at the University of Louisiana. His poems have appeared in Rattle, The Evansville Review, Bad Subjects, Drought, and Hellbent, a chapbook from Lazy Frog Press.

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