I carve out motives
and you carve out a chunk
of your knee on the sidewalk.
If it wasn't for all the snow
the fall would have been less
bloody. I find it hard to believe
you didn't cry. The skin peeled
like a sunburn and twinkled
with flecks of cement, but the snow
doctored it all. I take my scarf
to tie off the hole in your jeans
and cut the draft from running
up your spine. We have no privacy.
We have only this display
of winter that melts with our
every step. You ask to stop.
We are only two blocks from home
when you tell me that I failed
to mention the bluejay that flew
over head when you stumbled.
It's my favorite bird you say,
how could you not see it?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment