ice roads

you cannot read your way into being a good driver
the awful irony
the only way to ensure my son can drive on
icy roads with some safety
is to send him
unsafely
onto icy roads to learn

the only way through is
through
we say often
in fact we
have the words emblazoned in the dining room
I read them every time I pass
all day long every day
my feet a trail alongside the
muddy paw prints
dogs, too, play in the snow

at their grandmother’s I remind them
to pick the crumbs up from the floor
there are no dogs here to lick up the mess
or the wounds
of living
Grammie’s head scarf a reminder that
hair and health is temporary
you cannot read your way into
survival
though my sister
has read her way to Recovery