Snow, then night,
then snow again: this is the world
remaking itself, the world
at the end of song,
which is to say the sea
is just next door. Last spring, ravens
nested in the gnarled nook.
Now even the darkest things
have fled, without us
acknowledging we need them.
Now even the night
is draped in white thought lost.
Gabriel Dunsmith’s poems have appeared in Poetry, North American Review, Tikkun, Lake Effect, Hunger Mountain, and Appalachian Review. He is a Pushcart Prize nominee and Brett Elizabeth Jenkins Poetry Prize finalist. Originally from Asheville, NC, he lives in Reykjavík, Iceland, where he hosts the reading series Reykjavík Poetics. For more information: https://www.gabrieldunsmith.com/
