Winter
Fragments
1. Sparrow
My bones
have become
winter’s branches;
no warm sparrow lands.
2. 8
The chill came to me on 8
legs, & w/ spinnerets,
wrapped me
like a snack food fly.
3. Chalk
Winter’s fingertips
trace me
in police chalk.
Diverging
And I see my reflection in glass,
and he is moving at an angle
away from me,
smiling, ‘cause his eyes still see
the possibilities like jacks tossed
from a little girl’s hand; and I see
my reflection, aquiline nose and pearly teeth,
and he is skilled, knows how to ride a horse
in a parade while dressed for a 19th century war.
And where did we diverge? I think.
and I want to call out “where did our lives diverge?
where did I go wrong?” but his moustache
shows no signs of silver, and this inhibits me,
and I see my reflection in glass, and he is moving
at an angle away from me. Mounted on a glorious steed;
tassels waving from his golden helmet, sword in scabbard,
and now, all I want is to say goodbye---too late! His reflection
has slid off the edge of the building, in a less painful direction.
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