the curving slice

of a hawk cutting the day —

before and after

I try not to smile

but we both know my fingers

will be cold tonight

wiper blades squeaking

as the rain dwindles away —

umbrellas wilting

wind before the rain —

I tell myself

not to chase you

days that end early —

knowing what it is to hide,

I lift my chin

how you look at me —

light from the near-full moon

finding its way through clouds

baby pictures —

remembering his head’s warm curve

as the moon rises

thinking of you

now that it’s too late to call —

memory’s limits

winter morning —

every step complicated

by invisible ice