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December

December 23, 2010


every morning
I wake up wanting
to remake the world anew,
starting with the body
bunched in  the sheets
then the rug
on the floor
then  the view
through the window
where branches crack the sky
shards of blue caught
like ornaments
above a barren tree
a black explosion
blasting through  snow

winter is like a sword
it cuts both ways
disemboweling the old
to tear out the new

and winter is louder than the 4th
as it screams banshee-like
across frozen fields and fattened roofs
there’s no cocooning cacophony
sound is whittled  down to the marrow
without design-
it is the knife of a birth-pang,
the choke of a death rattle,
monolithic.
alone

so I say ” I love you”
as winter does, purposefully in passing
without the baroque flourishes of warmer times
without lingering-
I say ” I love you”
like ice,  to you who will  never come
and who will never arrive.
Winter burns and burns without ashes.


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