Looking Long at Mountains

Down the hill, some cows are staggered in a field,

just fleecing off the cold.


An hour and an hour.

Beside the road, mountains keep rising

in the rotten unrelenting.


The screaming wind continues to make us frail.

I sweep the cold against the doorframe.


It is the hundredth day, or more. Another sad one.


We know our immediate neighbors’ names.

We used to nod but now we hustle past

and pull inside—watch the deliberate fist of it.


Across the dirt, a coyote passes the old logs.


We sip stale soup.

Night husks to drifting snow.


Lauren Camp is the author of three books, most recently One Hundred Hungers, winner of the Dorset Prize (Tupelo Press, 2016). Her poems have appeared in many journals, including New England Review, Poetry International and Beloit Poetry Journal, and have been translated into Turkish, Mandarin and Spanish. Lauren is a Black Earth Institute Fellow and the producer/host of Santa Fe Public Radio’s “Audio Saucepan,” which interweaves global music with contemporary poetry. www.laurencamp.com.