by Thomas Davis
We drove Grand Mesa’s unpaved, snow-packed roads
Around its hairpin curves until the banks
Of drifts were high enough to stop the plows.
Grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins slammed
Car doors and shouted so their voices echoed off
The slopes and cliffs that soared into the sky.
Then “food enough to feed an army,” sleds,
Toboggans came from car trunks as the day’s
Festivity spilled out into the winter cold.
My Dad and Uncle dug into the snow
To make a fire with driftwood, branches found
Down in the canyon as we’d driven by
The stream that gurgled songs beneath the ice.
Then, looking down the road toward a bank
That lurched uphill before a hairpin curve,
The oldest of my cousins laughed and jumped
Onto her sled, her head downhill, and slid
Like lightning flashed into a coal-black sky:
The slope so steep she flew, the hill of white
A half mile down as solid as a wall,
The road beneath her hard and slick as ice.
Her mother, Aunt Viola, laughed to see
Her fly toward the snowbank wall as I
Could hardly breathe to see the tragedy
Unfolding as the sunlight glared into my eyes.
My eyes began to hurt. She had to crash
Or slam into the wall of snow so hard
She wouldn’t be my cousin anymore.
But, as she hurtled down toward her doom,
She dragged her legs behind the racing sled
And turned the blades before she hit the hill,
And everybody who had come to watch
Began to yell when she rolled off the sled,
Popped to her feet and shot her arm into the air.
When, after other cousins dared the hill,
I hesitated, swallowing to see
The downhill slope, my younger brother jumped
Ahead of me and joined into the fun.
I stood above my sled and felt my heart
Quail, staring down toward the distant bank
That still seemed solid as a concrete wall.
I froze and couldn’t move until my Dad,
Behind me, got me on my sled and pushed
Me off as cold and snow and light became
A blur of flying, flying down the road.
I flared my legs behind the hurtling sled
And tried to slow down as I turned the blades,
The running sound beneath my stomach, snow
A cloud of ice as I rolled off the sled
And came up, sunk in snow up to my hips,
And shouted with my arm up in the air.
