The snow has been falling for a few days
or years now. It drops from the pines
in white plumes, needles shoot
out from the glaze of ice. Did you
know in 1849 a snowflake
fell from the Scottish sky
twenty feet wide and shattered
cloud glass across the frozen ground?
Right now the radio says parallel
dimensions may exist while I realize
I need to put another notch
in my belt to keep my jeans
from falling to the floor -- to keep
distant suns within reach. Did you
know one scientist suggested the universe
is a giant crystal growing in a five-
dimensional liquid? I try to picture
its jagged edges swelling through time,
the snow falling in clusters
while the tea kettle hisses steam
and the television talks just a little
too fast. I take out the pocket knife
and lay the belt on the ***** floor
and dishes and snow piling
up around cars and door-
ways, and empty bottles and cans,
***** t-shirts, crumpled papers,
pots and pans. The knife sinks into leather
and creates a hole to hug closer
to my waist -- to hug myself into orbit
and anchor myself to the earth. Did you know:
When I was younger the sun
would shine the flakes together
into a thin sheet of ice we could walk
on. The light's reflection was sharp --
with eyes closed we took slow steps
above all the small pieces
that would soon melt,
not wanting to break the illusion
of our height, feet above the ground,
on a gleaming surface that could give way
at any moment.