brown faces falling toward us, arms
and legs dislocated by updraft, indigenous faces we knew from our daily rounds to buy groceries and tacos
It is early. A bird flies deep into the sky —
into that large silence
It’s so cold on this January morning
the condensation in the corner of each window
has frozen to the glass, cannot be wiped away.
remember the day at the beach when the sun
began to explain Heidegger to you while thunderclouds
rumbled up from the horizon like Nazi submarines?
Our annual animal shaped day by dayas the world shifts and shifts again O the plushchestnut coatsoft mouthfor carryingthe newyear in O skinnytail tappingbashfullycirclinginto sleep. Copyright 2018 Leslie McGrath