Finalist in the 2011 Alumni Poetry Contest
We’ll gaze at the museum exhibit
On the history of snow.
It’s just down the hall from the Wing of Autumnal Oddities,
Sandwiched between the Spring Rotunda
And the parched reflecting pool.
Our skies are cloudless now,
And ravens have no bare branches to perch on.
The SoCal sun’s hazy horizon is unbounded, and the phrase
“Beachfront property” is a laughable tautology.
So I’ll take you to the Smithsonian
And we’ll press our faces against the glass diorama case
Containing the last snowball on Earth.
It’s in a triple-redundant vacuum-sealed container,
And you want to pull the plug.
Go to poll
I’ll double dog dare you to lick the frozen streetlamp
In the “Gallery of Pre-Modern Climates,”
But you’ll laugh and refuse.
“No use getting stuck in the past,” you will say
And pocket the coal you stole from the snowman.