Tuesday, February 26, 2013

I Saw The Snow


I saw the snow fall gently on your crown
and your dusted lips in a royal’s modest smile,
half-hidden from me, turned toward the west,
where the sun busied himself behind cloud

and I could hardly contain myself,
I could harldy keep from
slamming my bony body into your frame covered
with sweetness and flesh, which I would have had not

our friends been walking just a step behind,
surrounding us, their whispering imaginations
like the humming of secret security cameras
peeking from pines, so instead I trembled

with desperation and expectation and something
like delight, and I guess
the corner of your eye mistook my shivering
for cold, because you gave me your jacket,

baring the long coolness of your neck,
and I trembled
and trembled, and the birds flew passionately
to warm their wings as we stomped our feet

and laughed at our own reddening noses.
And you stood among us
like a terrifying tree, and I wanted to throw my arms
around the trunk of you—