KIPPE Poem by Paula Meehan

KIPPE



Like a knitted Dutch mitten
found in a patch of snow

I pull the word for little house
over my frozen fingers -

crawling in sunlight
over my own shadow

dragging my bundle of hides
my bundle of skins

towards the door and in
to the stink of sleep

my hand thawed at last
from its carapace of ice.

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