December

1.

The love I meant for you
floating away piecemeal,
destined for someone else.
I watch this slow revealing:
all sandcastles via waves
in backward motion with
all the regret of selling books.

2.

The sky is blossoming with stars.
With the power out, the cheap sizzle
of burning trees and two bottles
of wine apiece keeping us on
the alert a moment--a breath--
before the darkness settles in,
below the blanket-sky.

3.

Coffee before the birds wake,
eyes brighter than the moon,
brighter than the sun, even,
this time of year.

4.

I crunchcrunch my way to the bar,
the air thin and aching with snow.
I fray the end of my jacket through
all the waiting and waiting like
home-cooked evenings and
Christmas cards from back home.

Above the city and much later still,
we breathe in the hum of quieting
neighbors, the slow floating of a storm
as the clouds disperse.