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Selected poems from Ice Carver

Seven Kitchens Press, 2017

Moving the Mirror



The mirror in the mover’s truck

for the moment isn’t moving. Mis-


placed, a summer sky glistens in its

depths, vertical waterfall of light


conjured in a child’s cave of cloaked

furniture upended. For some reason


the movers have disappeared—partially filled,

their load left unattended. But no one’s


around to care. The afternoon quiet;

the sidewalks empty; only the mirror,


once again, plays attentive host 

to a sun’s insistent brightness.

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