In February

by Alicia Hoffman

The stretch
of becoming
something other
appears possible,
the time it takes
may be forgiven,
waived absolutely
now that even
ice regrets
a quick thaw.
When it is frozen
the cold expanse
of landscape
translates into
infinitives: to be
here is plausible,
to be one
with this cold
is to cup
future moments
like a patient
dove in the palm
of the hand,
like drops
of water
go solid
on a branch
we, too,
can wait
in stillness
moments
before release.

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Alicia Hoffman currently lives, writes, and teaches in Rochester, NY. Her poems have appeared in Redactions: Poetry and Poetics, Red Wheelbarrow, The Centrifugal Eye, Poetry MidWest, elimae, and others. Last year, she was nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Best of the Net.

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Back to Issue Two: Winter 2009