Ice Storm
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Last night: Ice. The slick embalming, the weighted branches of trees, the snap of power lines, while on the streets one heard the constant blare of ambulances, fire engines, police. Someone was hurting out there. Within, all was dark and chilled.
I thought of the girl I'd seen at the grocery store the day before—her cheeks scuffed red, her eyes swollen, her features heavy with some secret, incurable sadness.
