The road through Russell
is peaceful and graceful.
The houses are elegant,
the trees large and easy.
Traffic moves calmly
past old stone churches
and flowers grace gardens
and border lawns.
It would be easy to get used
to a place like Russell.

pushing the trailer backwards
the fulcrum a small steel ball
that transmits actions
the front wheels shimmy left
the front end swings right
the hitch pivots left
the trailer back swings right
my head swivels like an owl’s
or Linda Blair’s stand-in dummy’s
and by now I sound like her too

in the mirror left is right
and visa-versa or whatever
it must become a habit grasshopper
thinking is the enemy
turn left to go right
do not think but do
this is impossible amen

In this cool basement room
contemplate the heat outside:
it cocoons lungs in winter wool;
the longer I shiver here
the more wool comes into the picture.
On the ladder armed with my
heat gun and scraper blade,
stripping heavy cracked old paint
in this sheep’s armpit,
I long for snow.