Up North

Up north we sit in Someplace Else:
my friend, the only woman
except for waitresses.
Orange jackets, hunters
talk of last year’s kill, Eagle River’s
upcoming Snowmobile Championship.

A portrait of a deer in the woods
with a woman’s face
hangs above us. Forks, knives,
coffee cups, and painted hooves
fleeing through lichen.

At the bar a drunk swerves
between whiskey and peanuts,
trips out to his car, a deer on its top.
His wife, probably at home,
a wedding picture above the bed:
she in white, he in black.
Orange sky pursuing whatever moves.

 

originally appeared in Island (1985)

Published by

Kenneth Pobo

Kenneth Pobo has six full-length collections of poetry and, including Ice And Gaywings, twenty chapbooks. His latest book, from Blue Light Press, is called Bend Of Quiet, and Booking Rooms in the Kuiper Belt is forthcoming from Urban Farmhouse Press. Ken began writing at age fifteen. He teaches creative writing and English at Widener University in Chester, Pennsylvania. He and his partner and two cats enjoy gardening, music, and the Wisconsin Northwoods. Catch Ken’s radio show, Obscure Oldies, on Saturdays from 6:00-8:30 pm EST at WDNR 89.5 FM.