Daisy Fried

A Snow Woman
August 14, 2012 Fried Daisy

A Snow Woman


A window on a side yard in winter.

I’m reading Stevens, as usual not into it.

I decide again not to get pregnant.

The neighbor’s child’s sandbox still out there,

lid on underneath snow: White barrow

burial for troubled life’s

embraces. Romance: I see them:

Upstairs-Jeff begins a snowman

with Thérèse and the kid, and we go out and help and

we’re in an Eddie Bauer winter catalogue,

dumping snow on one another to show

we’re harmless, grinning with open mouths.

Parsnip nose, jalapeño smile, habañero eyes.

Thérèse’s sloppy velvet hat. “Regardes, Doudou,”

Thérèse just-tenured in the French department

(specialty Valéry), “la bonfemme de neige!”

Doudou flails, struggles, nearly two, down out

of Maman’s arms, drives a fist deep into

the snow woman’s middle, right deep

into it. One must have a womb of snow,

an eye of cold. One must have a blue bright beret.

Un long regard sur le calme des dieux!

Daisy Fried is the author of four books of poetry: The Year the City Emptied: After Baudelaire, Women’s Poetry: Poems and AdviceMy Brother is Getting Arrested Again, and She Didn’t Mean to Do It. She has been awarded Guggenheim, Hodder and Pew Fellowships, is poetry editor for the journal Scoundrel Time, occasionally reviews poetry for the New York Times and elsewhere, and is member of the faculty of the Warren Wilson College MFA Program for Writers. She lives in Philadelphia.