The Walk
Slithering onto the track
clutching at branches
we laugh, you choosing
the safety of that ridge of deep snow,
me risking the hard-crack ice
of the ruts, we find a horse,
his breath hanging in the air.
By the barn which we can’t get into
because of the drift against
the door, we opt to go further,
to leave the writing because
the woods are so lovely,
every twig tensed with snow.
And, just beyond the lake,
you tell me about the abortion
eight weeks ago, how your mum
cried when you told her.
We walk on up the slope,
ice breaking like glass
under our stout warm boots.
(first published in The North, No.50)
Carole Bromley has two pamphlets and a full-length collection ( A Guided Tour of the Ice House) from Smith/Doorstop. She teaches Creative Writing at York University’s Centre for Lifelong Learning and has a blog at http://www.yorkmix.com and website at www.carolebromleypoetry.co.uk. Follow her on Twitter CaroleBromley1
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