everything I know is there
but don’t want to look at anymore.
and fill in the edges and cracks
of everything I left unsaid, undone and
got tired of,
like those rows of terra cotta pots on the front porch with dead, twisted, brown flowers
that used to be red, yellow, purple
green, luscious, luxurious: Cover them.
Come Snow with your ever present bride, Wind.
Let her howl through the carpenter’s
miscalculations of millimeters in the new buildings downtown,
through the single panes on the old houses let her howl,
through my coat, let her howl,
and let her rattle at the buttons on my dress.
I will open my throat, veins, ribcage,
I will open my brain, heart, eyes and I will open my motivations, intentions, desires to her sweeping momentum, Wind,
she, the agent of change from a distant place,
let her howl her travels and ruminations through me.
Come Wind and Snow
What one can’t scour clean
The other one can cover.
Together work together. Come.
And sweep through the corridors of my life until it is hollowed out;
eroded to a smooth, smooth, glass-like surface, white and endless, endless, covered, and all around me it comes down, the ink black night, my arms outstretched to let Wind whisk through me, taking last minute bits of bitter and clutter
sending them out to Snow to be covered.
swirling all around, glowing from the inside.