Survey Crew

by

M. Frost

Calculate where some poems begin—

the moment on the highway
when a hearse with its funeral procession
passed the warning signs for a survey crew.

The men tuned their instruments,
clicked dials, rotated discs,
and sighted through their scopes

as if they were capable of measuring
the fixed volume of passing grief,
the unflagged distance from life’s origin
to its endpoint, and every vector in between.

 

 

 

When not writing, M. Frost works as a veterinarian in Pennsylvania. Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming from numerous journals, including Nimrod, American Poetry Journal, Potomac Review, Pemmican and Philadelphia Stories.

 

 

 

 

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