You run away like the usual shadow of my southbound train.
Again: bird tracks in ice & I mistook them
for your tiny feet
—but I would know you, wouldn’t I, my
among all the world’s sighs.
I can stay here if it snows—I have money for coffee.
Cold pavement so I’m strewing crumbs behind me, please, I know you’ll
Come with me
& tell me of the other side’s pain flowers, horror glories; I’ll
listen all night.
Front page image by Lotus Carroll.