Monday, February 07, 2005


A jogger uses snow
To wipe dirt from
Her calves as the
Trillion sparrows
Filling the thicket
Suddenly hush
It’s noon and a woman
Walks her greyhound
Past, its skeleton
Strangely clunking
To and fro, the birds’
Song slowly builds
Again, I really need
To pee and I notice
The broken water
Fountain behind
Me, but I don’t
Dare, my tennis
Shoes elevated
By one of Christo
And Jeanne-Claude’s
Gates, the temperature
Is supposed to graze
Fifty today and I
Will not mourn the
Returned invisibility
Of my breath, I hope
Winter won’t be
Back too soon, hope
Alex is struggling
As well as I am
When he’s my age

No comments: