Frozen River, Winter Says Goodbye
       

Ice skating. Today it's an opera.
Today it's a getaway car, barking
around turns. Kissing the road
with wet, black rubber. Leaving
marks. Police sirens. Aerial news
coverage. She wants to feel
the eyes. Today it's the tug
of a crochet hook. Metal to ice,
mohawk entrance to double
Salchow. It's March—by April,
it won't be cold enough
anymore. Everything melts.
Everybody loves the thaw except
her. She loves the hard cold,
the mercurical wind. The ducked
heads, the quick steps, the hands
in pockets. The rigid laughs.
Today it's the first fresh apple.
Today it's last night's dream.
Today it's ice that sings. Shh.

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Copyright © 2012 Jesse Damiani All rights reserved
from Fourteen Hills
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission