Spring Break

Spring break. Kids are on the loose in the mind and everywhere.

Down by the creek, they club the ice with thick branches,

pelt its surface with stones, crying “die, die, die.

Geese honk overhead in couples, or ragged threesomes,

forming loose patterns in the sky.

The wind is bracing, making cheeks apple red.

Crucifixion is in the air, winter on a cross,

and the children with their clubs, boots, and stones

spit at and taunt the dying god, stabbing at the old

wineskin hide in want of something better.

The oldest child has broken off a slab of ice as huge

as a continent and it floats on the cold gummy abyss

freed from the fetters of the land that claimed it.

Now ice returns to the form it once was, as the

god who took on flesh returns to his — spiritus,

the world now forever altered by his having been in it;

 — altered now as the landscape is when we partake

of its transformation as he partook in ours.

Published online January 01 2013.

Sally Ito is a poet and fiction writer. She was born in Taber, Alberta and currently lives in Winnipeg. She has published three books of poetry, most recently Alert to Glory, as well as a collection of short stories called Floating Shore. Ito has also studied in Japan and has done translations of contemporary Japanese poetry. Sally is the Fall 2012 Writer-in-Residence for the Centre for Creative Writing and Oral Culture at the University of Manitoba.


No Place Like Home: A Winnipeg Issue cover image

This piece was published in ‘No Place Like Home: A Winnipeg Issue,’ the Winter 2013 issue of CV2.

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