To Eat Ice by Dianna Mackinnon Henning

To Eat Ice

A tree-frog found its home in our dog’s fur. Not
a log-cabin, geodesic dome or even

an A-frame. No, the architecture
of convenience was at work, and our

dog snored while the frog dug deeper
into Sakari’s dense double coat. I mulled

over hiding places, igloos built
from snow, summer huts,

support beams of birch poles. How
fast we love a thing—fasten it to our souls,

peel the birch to curl into small canoes;
eat the ice of our homes and strike forbidden fires;

flames fanning silhouettes on our hard
packed snow. When we got so

cold we thought ourselves hardwood, we mad-
dashed inside to the stove’s fire, where

we counted lives inside each spark that sent
its star across the dark.

by Dianna Mackinnon Henning

Editor’s Note: This poem’s meandering narrative leads the reader to believe it will end up in one place, but then it travels to another, and one is left richer for the journey.


One response to “To Eat Ice by Dianna Mackinnon Henning”

  1. LarrySchug Avatar

    This poem is so beautiful, so insightful. I love how visual are your words; there are multiple paintings contained within them that will delight me for a very long time. As a person who has a dog, lives in a place where I just can’t wait for the tree frogs to begin their songs, have birch trees outside my window as I write this and live in an A-frame house heated with a wood stove, I feel like this poem is a gift sent only to me this morning. Thank you.

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