Snow Dance With Sarah
I have not known
my city as my city when
the city snows.
There is no snow here.
It never snows in Houston.
I have seen my city
with her cheekbone bruised
and with a busted nose
and with a bloodied nose
- but no tears were shed
at that dystopic scene,
the evening
Harvey carved my city’s
cupboard lean.
I later stole a glance
from Houston
with her windows closed
the night forever froze.
And I wept that night
to learn my city snows.
I wept for you
and for another chance.
I wept for us and
how we used to dance
under streetlamps
in our city full of snow.
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