Two Poems from Winter

Now that it’s spring, and maybe even summer, I feel as if I can release into the void a collection of wintery thoughts.

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About as Close to Winning as You Can Possibly Get

What?

How is it done? Try

The unexpected sun inside a candy wrapper,

Or slick below in still-defiant leaves.

In a tired-but-still smile made of lips.

In a red coat on a doorstep as it begins to rain.

It exists in the quiet fitting together sensation,

In a seeking hand in hair across an uneasy hour.

It exists, startlingly, in those gray-minor times

Or sudden cold-inversions,

And makes the dark somehow warm.

Then one perfectly sunny morning, a

Brisk

Shout

That says: Yes.

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Intimate Terrorism

How deep the cold goes,

I don’t care to contemplate.

But the odd glance is telling:

Shimmering silence

And sheer alcoholic weight.

I can’t feel my toes.

Even when we are sharing breath

I am finding it difficult to breathe.

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