poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Friday, October 24, 2014

Meltwater Coffee


He went to the tree with an egg and a match
and a paper cup when he couldn’t sleep.
He made a fire and melted snow in the cup and boiled the egg.

Autumn resolves to frost and then is quickly spent.
Soon my names will turn brown and fall off,
if I catch them in the kettle with some snow it will make a sort of coffee.

When you eat the bear, you will know the woods, he said.
He spent the night beneath the tree of wakefulness,
feeling awe for the wolves and feeding the deer.

My own deep sleep pressed down on the tall grasses
of his matted hair, making bright paths.

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