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.