from my skull
in the middle of November
fearing the necessity of
a bathing suit
on Thanksgiving Day
I lunged into
Red Lodge, Montana
twenty years past
the Rockies
deep
in summer snowdrifts
and even the pure gift of
a brief blizzard
the flying ice-crystals
catapulting
my ragged soul
into bliss.
dare I say it—
the happiest moment
of my life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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