Winter spills over Kentucky
like a splash of liquid nitrogen

what eats is scarce because what's eaten is scarce
scavengers search trash cans—enjoying the warmth inside

ice scabs over fluvial lakes
once their revenue streams have been frozen

a faint, far away generator screams away the cold
like smokestacks on the horizon

(all that smoke must mean something
I figure something must be burning)

a fire burns somewhere—I'm not there
I'm here, and here, there's a fire over there

crimson cardinals appear through neutral trees
like I was struck in the head with a blunt object

darkness drifts overhead where geese drift away
as Kentucky loses consciousness

gauzy snow is wrapped around the state
—a cold compress for the fall's wounds

time heals all wounds
but is a wound itself.