(written for the Elliot hyper-poem, spearheaded by Gary B.)
Winter
is warmer than
indifference. Your glance
slides past me to the door. You stay
inside.
I drift
through certain half
deserted streets. Beneath
a hollow, haunted moon, I walk
alone.
No snow
will smooth this rough,
uncompromising ground.
Trees bow bare heads, surrender to
the frost.