here comes ice, silver-sealing sky ceiling
sprinkle blast clean, stark street kneeling,
under the awning, yvonne in her box;
streets now white, stark school of knocks
rap tap napping --------her cardboard door,
ice gets his beak wet in the neck of the poor
burger bag litter, all soggy with sleet
silvered sky ceiling, sideways indiscrete
blowing fine ice dust from two miles above
yvonne's eyelids fluttered their doves
butterfly kissing the cold that could bill
there on white stark street, intractable
a sojourn to cheek hill, the ice near belabored
transfigured our landscape around old mount tabor
2017
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