Sundogs East

The sun dogs will root me
out of my burrow to freeze
in a Midwest snow, without
haystack or bookstall to hide
inside and huddle out
the plummeting white.
Delighted, the sun dogs
will dress themselves
in my skin and, until
spring, my mittens.
Then they will wear
my disguise, not writing
poems, and my bones
will melt away.

Sara Wainscott has an MFA in Poetry from the University of Washington. Currently she lives in Chicago and teaches writing. Most recently, her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Columbia Poetry Review, the Ohio State Journal, and Poetry Northwest.