A Walk in the Snow

Familiar sounds and shadows Lead me to the window Whose light I call my own. Dissident echoes of day’s fading hustle Roll with evening’s tide to a murmur Of far-off blasts and empty halyards. Even now, when hidden by fresh snow My feet find and follow The unevenly warm brick walk. Mine are the only impurities: An empty trail left behind To tiny to hide what follows in them. It walks in gorilla boots, With treads like fangs and leather Salivating slush. My uniform, darker than night, Will not save me from the bold And unforgiving moon. I’m covered by its claws. I fight the cold and harsh light-- Unwanted attention-- Shock. A shine scrapes from the gold on my lapels, And pulls me, fighting, Holding me down. Crunching, groaning, screaming of the snow Surrounds me in a spotlight: Its boot-tips reflect a bewildered face. Nothing to grab, to hold, to throw, Only the slippery powder That makes raw the deepest parts exposed. Snow like moths Speckled on black Eat the delicate threads that hold pride. Sparkling crystals whirling erratically Land in dark splotches, staining wool Wet from fury, from tears, from blood. Gold buttons, silver-tipped shoes Like beacons, unwanted, all around Helpless and exposed. No one, nowhere, nothing, Sights and sounds, too far away to see, to be seen, To hear, to be heard. Smothered by the snow, My uniform means nothing, It does not blend in this eerie light. Even after, when looking safe from my window, The pleas, like drafts, are ignored. No one, nowhere, nothing.

-- Roxanne Rusinko Midshipman, U.S. Naval Academy