Woman in Winter and Passages

by Alice Jennings


Woman in Winter

She sees a man

through the wide glass

doors of the kitchen.

He is standing by the stove,

a wooden spoon

in one hand.  A wine glass

in an another. He is her husband.


She knows she should leave

her space – a red shed

thirty steps and more

behind the house.

It is a cold desert night

No moon. No light.


She steps out wearing

slippers, this season’s

gift from him.

She walks with confidence,

without the fear of summer, for

the snakes are coiled tightly

in deep dens.


She forgets to listen

to the movement of the earth.


The javelinas running

down the hills,

rush so close she feels,

the wind at her knees

but not

the spines of the chollas

scraping her skin.






wishing for years

to stay young

I am old now

the white lily is wilting

I am wilting too




watching him eat sardines

the oily smell, the sucking sound

I think about death

like plankton being filtered

through a sardine’s gills

 * * * * * * * *

Alice Jennings — currently lives in Oaxaca. She is a past participant in the U.S. Poets  Program in Mexico and was a featured reader at Cafe Poesia in Merida, Mexico.

Jennings is an MFA student in the brief residency program at Spalding University in Louisville, KY.

Art by Mel Blossom


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