At the western outfitters the clerk
       

shows me a photo of the musk ox
he dropped near Kotzebue

his rifle a delicate woodwind
the car coat he sells is too much
blue as a bureau

handsome checkers and closed squares

wool rooms that would keep me
warm all century

instead I set forehead
hot against the window and watch
spring's first goose

land in the field the city set aside

soon the vista will be down

and to the south a gosling nothingness
my migrant eye already fevers

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Copyright © 2013 Ed Skoog All rights reserved
from Rough Day
Copper Canyon Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission