I
have
grasped
how cold
it's grown

now I
cannot feel
your hands..

As I recall
we watched together,

turning off
the upstairs light

we huddled by our
landing window.

bundled
under burgundy

We stared across
the road, toward

that solitary
street lamp

both silenced,
by the wonder
of it all...



So when
the first flakes fall

I become that child,
once more,

my face behind
the curtain

forehead pressed
to freezing glass,

being careful
with the breathing..

living only
for the quiet snow



some part of me
expecting you
to be here

And I shall
flinch the brittle creature
from the rock face

proclamate,
proselytize,
with frightening
euphoria

to your glorious embrace,
I must comply,

perching
vulturine, delirious
impervious to pain

near that place
between excitement
and all possible regret

I will go by

looked
into the mirror

there was
nothing staring
back at me

could be
I'm free

could be
I'm free

Leaning more to
Winter now,

I set a silent
time aside

become a thing
crepuscular,

led in and out
of twilights.

This vintner's loss
of glass-blown height,

too intricate
to comprehend,

like promises
we occupy,

leads meaning
to an end.

As
if from
nowhere,

a dimple
of that far-off laughter

ripples through
the wavered spaces

fainter
than it used to be

indubitably
yours

In
our culture
of elusive truth

I
place
my faith
in doubt