The One Where the Girl Died in Woods Close to Home

Adam Houle Click to

houleBorn in Green Bay, Wisconsin, Adam Houle holds a PhD from Texas Tech.  His work has appeared in AGNI, Willow Springs, Cave Wall, Best New Poets 2010 and elsewhere.  He lives in Darlington, S.C.

It started when a filament popped
in the lone headlight
of the snow sled,

quietly, beneath the engine’s roar
and the grind of the single-track
trundle churning snow

as the girl left late
to make it home.
The blizzard, my mother

says, buried her
back-trail and without
a light she could not find

her trace. That filament,
the fine hair finely split,
brought on a deeper night,

and with it the wind conspired.
The wind banked great drifts.
It rearranged the known world’s face.


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One Response to The One Where the Girl Died in Woods Close to Home

  1. Annie Persons says:

    This poem is so precise. It has a careful pace, and I admire Houle’s use of repetition. The whole poem is chilling, but the last line in particular will stay with me.

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