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The cold that is loneliness–

Ice, snow, hunger.

Did we care

The days had shortened?

Dark mornings,

Dark afternoons,

We stumbled, it’s true,

But don’t we all stumble,

Slide on the ice–

A dangerous toboggan

Of metal and glass and rubber

Just sliding,

sliding, sliding.

Where will it stop–

Against a sign, a bank of snow,

An oncoming car?

We turn the wheel

Left, then right, then left

And tap on the brakes,

Hoping they will catch

Onto something solid.

 

My love, turns out

You were the solid thing

On which I caught.

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