Friday, February 13, 2015

Friday the 13th

two-faced morning,
dazzling winter sun
over the flat cold creep
blackjacking temples.

the gurgle and roar
of cars expiring

the holler of men
carving up streetcorners.

amid strewn salt
strange detritus
frozen into the sidewalk:
rubber bands
childish slips and omens.

a sparrow lost
in the hollow room of night:
she bares her throat to the ground
arrow-straight, empty,
a warning
of claws in my gloved palm.

I scrub my hands,
the water too cold, too hot.