Mississauga V

Part Of A Series Of Poems About Mississauga

Snow stops falling and finally
I can no longer hear
the traffic.

I can no longer hear
the traffic.

The countryside takes back its own
in unconventional silence.
But this is not Detroit,
not yet.

I begin to hear the gears of my own mind
humming. My heart churns,
my muscles contract with
crackling bursts of embers.

All at once the snow melts.
A thousand cars and
ten thousand trucks descend
and run low-gear loops
around the house.

The countryside retreats
to the front line far to the north,
and finally

I can no longer hear
myself.