The Ice Along the Road

         And nothing we could ever lose
spreads over the white ground.
         Soft ellipses of footprints lead
   into the trees—

         more will follow. You imagined
tears-not mine-either way,
         a dearth of postcards you would not
   want to reveal.

         This night forgot us years ago
but could not wait you out.
         Violet candies crumble on
   the window ledge;

         the birds return for them, deceived.
I need you to tell me
         the orange smoke of the plastics
   factory is

         beautiful against the moon and
that all you want is to
         sleep the rest of the way with your
   head on my lap.