| I can see it in mine, and yours too - the corners of eyes and mouth sag, weighted by our slushy urban slog. Unurbane, we melt into the night like Dali's clocks, Counting, counting the minutes of loss. Soon I'll look into the sun that cleans every corner and highlights the dust, and diamonds the snow, and delivers from darkness my laden soul. I bargain, beguile, beg for ten degrees to turn disconsolate rain into sanguine snow. So snow now, now snow, so we may play in the light of the darkest day. |  |
