Melt Off
Patrick O'Neill
Snow Script
It’s early spring;
the temperature’s in the fifties.
My sister, the botanist,
points to the history
of the crime in the snow.
Prints, blood, and fur
tell the story of the ambush
and the killing
of her three-month-old Irish setter.
They came right into the yard,
she says. She didn’t have a chance.
Coyotes will do that, I say.
She nods, wipes tears from her eyes.
Fucking murderers, she says.
They have to eat, I remind her.
She nods, says, I’m being unfair—
but everything’s so unfair.
Or everything’s so fair, I say.
She cocks her head at me.
Things kill other things, I say.
Suffering prevails. I look
at the gruesome history
in the snow. I say, The planet
snows pain. But like now—
I point to the water running
off the high snow banks
down her driveway—
it melts, goes away.
She shakes her head.
It doesn’t go away; it just—
she points to the running water—
disguises itself.
I point to the prints, blood, fur
in the snow. I say,
A few more warm days like this
and all that will be heading
toward Lake Superior.
Yes, but the history lingers, torments.
Until you get another dog, I say.
She almost smiles, wipes her tears.
I think my pets for awhile
will all have roots, she says.
She kicks at the snow.
Everything fades and goes away,
she says. Yet nothing
really fades or goes away.
I make a snowball, think
about what she’s said.
You’re right, I say.
Snow doesn’t go away;
it changes its chemistry,
wipes clean its pages, returns
to record the same flickers
of the planet’s inanities. I throw
the snow ball in the rivulet
in her driveway—
watch it slowly,
reluctantly
join the melt off.
ISBN 1-59661-047-6
72 pages/$15
Over its nearly three decades of publication, Newsletter Inago has had the privilege
of showcasing Patrick O’Neill’s excellent narrative poetry more than once
and has always looked forward to his future gracing of its pages. His verse with its
wonderfully “everyman” characters brings so-called “common folks”
to a literary immortality that demands his inclusion in the pantheon of old and new
great poets.
Del Reitz, Editor and Publisher, Newsletter Inago
In Patrick O’Neill’s poetry, inner monologues and outer dialogues fold into
episodes—vignettes of everyday living. He sprinkles his poems with gentle
treatments of the wisdom of animals, the revelations of plants. His poetry is a
veritable kaleidoscope of highly interesting slices of life. His empathic style
touches the reader’s heart-felt spirits while his offbeat wit and subtle
irony produce provocative revelations.
Dr. Tom Bruneau, Professor Emeritus, Radford University
Born in Pontiac, Michigan, Patrick O’Neill grew up and attended high school
in Waterford, Michigan, received his bachelor’s and master’s degrees
from Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo, taught English for a few years at
Comstock High School—then moved to Ironwood in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula
where he teaches writing and literature at Gogebic Community College and writes poems,
stories, and plays.