Snowy Windy Night Over The Terrace
Tonight, her footsteps crack and moan —
She's useless when her tears frost over,
The gutter running without her, alone
There's another ghost inside porchlight silver,
A foot melting on the banister —
She's dark as the wind that picks her up,
This twisting whirl of white clumps
Against wind now seeming touchable —
Outside, the snow jumps
With the draft...and then the window's wail,
Being broken apart like snowflakes assails,
She touches the real parts in foggy glass —
The cold that blasts through a girl's face,
Years after, the woman outside this table —
So the terrace is her cup, white laughter, dark tastes.
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