Archive for November 24, 2013


I took in everything I saw
with force, as never to forget
that moment on the platform
in errasing snow: the coats around us,
the red wool of the scarfs
and the damping breath.

Sometimes you know that tragedy
is happening under your eyes.
In dying Winter light, in sounds and movement
of the leaving train it was apparent
that you were on your way,
never returning.

We had not said it
but we felt it just the same.
Already out of touch you said my name,
the sound fell screaming on the rails.
When all was quiet,
the setting sun was burning
and you were gone for ever.

A Caring Woman in Winter

There is no telling how long days will be dark,
depending on weather, calendar and mood;
she is knitting a sweater, the sort that he wears
on days when the Pole air enters the house,
the arms by now three times the arms of a man.
This makes her feel good. Though he tried,
there is no stopping a woman in Winter who cares.


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