by Wayne Johns

Hooded in coats, we’re coming in
from a breathtaking blizzard.

One of us is looking down.
The other looks back into the whiteout.

No way to tell from this shot
since all skin is covered.

Behind us, the figure—it
should stand for something—

that we formed. We’ve been framed
between the threshold and the storm.

Wayne Johns’ poems have appeared in New England ReviewPloughsharesPrairie SchoonerImageBest New Poets, and elsewhere. He is the author of a chapbook, An Invisible Veil Between Us (Thorngate Road). A former Lambda Literary fellow, he currently serves on the editorial staff of Raleigh Review and as a reader for The Adroit Journal and the BOAAT book prize.


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