In the snow the mother
holds a fallen still-warm
child who is a man
his throat bared to the snow.
Snow falls on his naked arm
the hand
dangles to the snow, heaped around her feet.
Her pieta, draped over
his mother’s frozen skirt.
Snow fills the cracks
his fire-protective
heavy gear split by heat
scorched by the flame
that claimed him.
The evening gown sky
bare branches bridal lace
is snowing in the quiet.
All’s a wedding
snow the veil.
The woman’s face called sacrifice
her jaw stern, her eyes north-gazing
into the night of falling diamonds.
Behind her, another age’s bronze:
the Engine horses draw the men to fire.
Her boy is one of them
“in a war that never ends.”
She too is bare from the waist up
her breasts of stone
her breasts of frozen milk
the nipples hard and icy as her stare.
Under the lacy, muffling snow,
Oh, her young girl’s hair.
Patricia Brody (MS, MA) lives and works in New York City where she is also raising three
children. Her work has appeared in a broad range of literary journals and anthologies
and her chapbook Dangerous to Know is forthcoming in winter, 2008. A certified social
worker, Ms Brody practices psychotherapy for families and individuals and teaches
American Literature at Boricua College in Harlem.