Pantoum from Devon Miller-Duggan

SECOND NOR’EASTER IN A WEEK, THIRD IN A MONTH, AND THE STATE’S SNOW REMOVAL
BUDGET WAS GONE AFTER THE FIRST ONE

..just as English uses derived terms for a variety of forms of water (liquid,
lake, river, brook, rain, dew, wave, foam) that might be formed by derivational
morphology from a single root meaning ‘water’ in some other language, so Eskimo
uses the apparently distinct roots aput ‘snow on the ground’, gana ‘falling
snow’, piqsirpoq ‘drifting snow’, and qimuqsuq ‘a snow drift.
–Franz Boaz, 1911

It’s been 33 years since we’ve had a winter like this—
Three blizzards in the week we got married,
Snow so high we thought we’d never make it to the church.
We never did make it to the rehearsal.

Three blizzards the week we got married.
The snow floated down like down, fluffed up behind the car.
We never did make it to the rehearsal.
Snow dropped on top of snow, like sand through an hourglass.

The snow floated down like down, fluffed up behind the car–
We drove through feathers, through flower petals.
Snow dropped on top of snow, like sand through an hour glass
Snow fluttered at us every time we went out.

We drove through feathers, through flower petals.
This year’s first blizzard, snow ran horizontal, a marathon of flakes.
Snow fluttered at us every time we went out—
The air was full of angry chickens flapping in our faces.

This year’s first blizzard, snow ran horizontal, a marathon of flakes–
An infinite fleet of microscopic sails invading the neighborhood,
A universe of angry chickens flapping in our faces.
Last week’s snow was riot, chaos, blown up, blown down, blown circles,

Another infinite fleet of microscopic sails invading the neighborhood,
Confused, but piling up as if it knew what it wanted to cover.
Today’s snow was riot, chaos, blown up, blown down, blown circles,
Then showering down, serious, heavy, stinging crystals

Piling up as if they knew what they wanted to sand down, smooth over.
We shoveled the 4-wheel drive car clear, shoved enough out of its way
Though the snow was riot– blown up, blown down, blown circles,
Even clinging to the 6’ icicles.

We shoveled the 4-wheel drive car clear, shoved enough out of its way
To get out if our first daughter’s first child decides to come
In spite of snow clinging to six foot icicles and drifts everywhere.
Snow stopping, then starting, the sky emptying itself of water.

We can get out if our first daughter’s first child decides to come.
It’s been 33 years since we’ve had a winter like this—
Snow on snow on snow bundling the state beneath white blankets,
Snow so high we thought we’d never make it to the future.