A BLANKET OF SNOW

A blanket of snow is fastening firmly on the land.
Warm, numbing, blank, obscuring, hiding me the path.
I go in search of shelter - it must not drape my heart -
but it breaks in through the window with its white-cold wrath.

I cannot live for long in a house whose fire is out.
If there I fall asleep, my form is drifted into naught.
Rub my limbs, o lover, for I want to feel again.
In the so-called snow-stacked shelter, putrid bodies start to rot.

1993

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