Dan Lukiv

Skipping Stones, poetry Dan Lukiv

An excerpt // Hoarfrost // Hoarfrost-mittens, / Bony fingers protected / From mist rising / From the ice-chunked river. // Spiny roots lie naked, / Except under snow-dust patches. / Even small rocks jut up, / Soaking in the wintry sun / In the pink sky. // A small boy, bare-faced, / Shakes a young tree, / Draws ice-dust into / Short lungs; / He coughs, gasps, / Tastes cornflakes / In his throat. // But the spasm passes; / He studies silvery crystals- / Still falling, / Searching for a bunker. // He runs to the next spindly tree, / Determined to shake it clean, / But he won't breathe so quickly, / Or deeply, / Because coughing on hoarfrost / Scared him.