Andrew Lansdown: ‘Sapporo Snow’ and ‘Code’

Sapporo Snow

i
In the leafless tree
every forked twig is holding
a morsel of snow.

ii
Like sin swaggering
in a celestial landscape—
a crow in the snow.

iii
Nestled in a nest
built and abandoned by kites—
the broody snow.

iv
In the stripped maple—
dangling seeds and hawfinches
and sachets of snow.

v
When did it come, go—
the deer that during the night
left tracks in the snow?

Andrew Lansdown

Code

As I drop my head
to my hand to prop the weight
of my heart, I note
a vein pulsing in my wrist,
measuring out my moments.

I watch it awhile,
the blue pulse in my pale wrist.
What, I wonder, is
the ceaseless Morse code message
to which my veins give passage?

Andrew Lansdown