Young Girl in Snow

You wonder if
it will ever stop snowing,
as staggering cliffs of white
load up on the roof,
thickening clouds of the stuff
swallow the air, the yard,
keeping you and those you live with
prisoners from the world
but not from each other.

All your life, you have lived
with snow and people,
but now the adjustments come slower,
family and weather bear down more.

You scratch a figure of yourself
in the icy window,
a ghost to haunt you
in the thick of this.

The pane is like the photograph
on the dresser—
parents, siblings,
and you in there scratching.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Big Muddy and Sanskrit, with work upcoming in South Carolina Review, Gargoyle, Mudfish and Louisiana Literature.