01-31-2016, 09:53 AM
I count the people that stumble crossing
between, through and above the dark packs of snow
lining the edges of city blocks
and storefronts warmed by insect-like
chatter from guided bodies and a half-broken radio;
and she is a little light taken by hand, the only observer
left in this squeezed sponge of a community,
eyes agape and head spinning
as winter plays peek-a-boo with
its last fan.
between, through and above the dark packs of snow
lining the edges of city blocks
and storefronts warmed by insect-like
chatter from guided bodies and a half-broken radio;
and she is a little light taken by hand, the only observer
left in this squeezed sponge of a community,
eyes agape and head spinning
as winter plays peek-a-boo with
its last fan.