…this city, board windows
     gaze interrogate     quiet
languages
                     like dirt rings
                                    in a bathtub

                          mind my mind

          begins to snow
telephone rings you cradle
     the receiver
as if listening for
a newborn
      heart
           we all love
                          your need

     to be entertained

your indeterminate smile
           lips receding
     from teeth
                          like an ice age

in the street my man turns

     his collar     high
                in the wind
                    a face is slapped

     and we are
     splinters
     eaten by winter.