when she’s gone, i’m bothered by the shapes of things—
after a night of downwinds and forked tongues of freezing rain and snow
first light breaks upon a birch stump encased in a slick film of ice
like a squid halfburied on the side of the road
the frozen river reflects january’s face back at the sky
but all the midnights, sewn tight with horsehairs,
can’t hold back the blue blood when the charles thaws
bares his teeth, and bristles at the anodyne of ocean tides
my heels should be as hard as stone by now
whet by years of walking barefoot in the snow
but i’ve lost myself in the throes of giving up the day
and in the confusion of conquistador and prey
the dark winter cannot hold ground for long
spring and morning share the same trill orphan song
