FIRST SNOW

	By Shushan Avagyan


	There is a bustle in the air,
	a rattling, a soft commotion, 
	clouds gossiping in espionage
	as Yerevan breeds quietly with gray -

	Could I be a spirit trapped
	in a statue, white covering my toes?
	Looking up - the sky is solemn,
	filled with easy dancing flurries
	that separate us -

	they condemn this marriage
	of fast melting heartbeats,
	brusque slaps on my naked face
	that sometimes hurt, especially the ones
	spinning the eye - like icicles
	from fairytales, so I ignore the laughing
	doilies that resist and stay,
	clinging to my bronze shield
	as surrogate drapes.


--
Shushan Avagyan was born in Yerevan, Armenia.  She is currently
working on her master's degree in English Literature, and is a
recipient of the Dalkey Archive Press fellowship at the Illinois
State University.