Divining

                                                                    by

                Pauletta Hansel

                                FEBRUARY

                          There has to be a February,

                          every year a sinking down below

                          the frozen surface of your life,

                          the sky a grey stained

                          pillow pressing down and down

                          where everything you've

                          ever wanted to forget

                          or hold lies

                          dormant in your hot red core.

                          February days so quiet

                          you hear your blood inside your veins.

                          And if you try to cheat it,

                          fill your days and nights with brightly

                          colored noise, by-pass February

                          as you might some broken

                          town you'd just as soon

                          forget you'd ever seen,

                          your life creates another one:

                          last year May, a swollen river

                          of a month,

                          I could not lift my head

                          above its murky surface;

                          another year it's August melts me down

                          like asphalt, any road I hope

                          to travel buckling with its weight.

                          Every year there has to be a February,

                          every year, a sinking down.

                          You might as well use February

                          in its time.