Drift
The gold March dawn
and below my window
a man carves his car
from the snow heap
plowed up around it.
So easy not to envy
the cold muscled task
but then imagine—
feeling your heartbeat
alive like a chipmunk
at work in your chest,
imagine the whole day
arm-sore and good
with accomplishment,
the day you begin
with heavy breath
and see it linger
outside your body
like a negative of
the dark air cavityin you like the spirit
in you like the ghost.
Copyright © 2022 by Alicia Mountain. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 3, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.