Permafrost

Gary V. Powell's Permafrost is a rich and sensual meditation on aging, parenting, romantic love, and the inexorable passage of time. From the lawn's first cut in spring to its final cut in fall, the poet urges readers to take nothing for granted, "neither the greening of/my glowing embers maple/nor the thorn from old-world rose." In poems written for a son who has chosen a high-risk combat role in the military, Powell both admires the boy's courage while fearing for his safety, noting that: "Lean as blades forged in flame/Army Airborne Rangers/ prefer heat to cold/would rather burn than freeze." Love for a spouse is celebrated not with flowers and Hallmark cards but in the preparation of Tuesday tacos: "I work from scratch, kneading masa/ for tortillas like I needed your breasts/the first time we lay together/ flesh to flesh, tequila to margarita." In the eponymous poem. geologic time is compared to the forty years since a daughter's birth: "all those years between/no more than a/glint of sunlight/off a liquifying glacier." As Powell observes in the closing poem, "(B)ut nothing is without cost/not seed sewn in bare patches/fertilizer dearly applied, or/bad decisions made in spring." Here are poems from a seasoned author bursting with wisdom and humor and shining with light under the shadow of impending darkness.