Maple Drumming on My Shoes

Maple drumming on my shoes,

Raining on my head,

screaming of our beds

 

Ice fields in bloom,

shoulder-things given,

Mark this moment in the frost of a car window,

With thick gloves

 

When forgotten-things come back to howl,

All werewolf-brown and twilight heave

Something profound was cut from me—

Leaving kisses on the leaves.

 

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