Speaking in Tongues

On the day it finally snowed, we drove
home, with the dog licking the window
in long, loud slurps, as if a spring

had welled up, conjured from the car,
as if the pane had become a cistern.
Twenty-degree weather, and his tongue

didn’t stick, but described steamy trails
through his reflection, while we chided him,
Stop, bad boy! What did we miss?

Some condensation grander than breath?
There was nothing beyond the farm fences
that afternoon, nothing beyond the fat snow

sliding by the car, fog, winter pastures,
the dog's reflection in the frozen glass.

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About the Author

Wendy Taylor Carlisle lives and writes with both feet in the Arkansas Ozarks. She is the author of four books: Reading Berryman to the Dog (2000), Discount Fireworks (2008), The Mercy of Traffic (2019) and On the Way to the Promised Land Zoo (2019) and five chapbooks.

Wendy Taylor Carlisle
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