Snows of a Dream

Still
it could be possible
winter yet may cauterize
the bleeding out

least offer
flash freeze images
parsed to clean abstractions
staring toward the north

launched south
now closing in, a shirtless man
false courage his pale strategy
taunts a beggar trying art.


No tower
but a cottage watch
across the ice, its slow advance
sled dogs point to north and wait.

This winter night
in future times will seem a shattering
of no repair – there was no
other place to stand.

Attending wounded, leaning
by a window-gridded view of ice
a war was waged to steal his mind
it stole so much.