Spring Thaw
A remnant conceals
things I can’t
change, a blue
glacial memory
reveals:
light’s sharp edges—
I lean.
As if my body—
subdued
by brittle, gutter, brim
ice. Finding a chickadee’s
feather on a snowflake,
while lost in slumberous,
smooth, blue, smoke.
I awaken to a chirping,
flock fly overhead.
Indeed grace.
From Blood Snow. Copyright © 2022 by dg nanouk okpik. Published by Wave Books. Reprinted by permission of the author and publisher.
dg nanouk okpik
dg nanouk okpik was born in Anchorage, where she spent much of her life, and her family is from Barrow, Alaska. okpik is Inupiaq, Inuit. She received an AFA in liberal arts / liberal studies from Salish Kootenai College, earned both an AFA and BFA from the Institute of American Indian Arts, and an MFA in creative writing from the University of Southern Maine’s Stonecoast program.