Poetry - Issue 4 | April 2009
Two poems by Sarah J. Sloat
The Snow is an Intelligence Officer
It’s one subtle secret agent, the snow,
dropping like a soft abductor.
I didn’t know it had this many fingers,
this many keyholes and doors.
There’s never been a mission
so openly covert, such
a pouring on of camouflage.
Flush with this cache, I assume
a new identity. I’m going to wear
a sherpa’s cap and let my hair grow long.
The world’s a mess, but not this morning.
The snow has kidnapped my opinions,
absconded with the list of wars.
The world and I pass by
the bakery window:
we never looked so pretty –
the snow is that smart.
About the author
Sarah J. Sloat remembers collecting stamps before the days of e-. She remembers being allowed to smoke in the office, the back rows of the cinema, and on airplanes. If she could, she’d choose Philadelphia over New York, but for a long time she’s lived across the Atlantic perfecting her German grammar. Sarah’s poems have appeared in Court Green, Hayden’s Ferry Review, and RHINO. Her chapbook, “Excuse me while I wring this long swim out of my hair,” is due in 2011 from Dancing Girl Press.