ISSUE: Winter 2013
Tonight I walk out into winter’s fingers
stepping from one stone
and onto another,
the stones receding into darkness
as I leave them. Smoke from a home fire
roams the air. Snow comes.
My shoulders go soft—
two blades loosening into the spine—
and for once I’m a witness,
not a careless warrior, who watches the leaves
as they turn and die, and Jon
is leaving. Lynn is lying
about her life, so I can’t help her.
I’m miles away
so I can’t hold her or hold her down.
But what is the cold
compared to the fire?
Where does the rage go?
The road’s packed with snow.
Black tea steams
between my hands and I drink it down
until it burns.
