***

Fifth and sixth day pass, both slow/cold/stared-upon

Old Valentines still pretty on the desk, so sadly so

Snow falls outside but does not hide the bubbling flood

Must clear the stairs and walks where black ice forms

For so long loved the gift of falling snow

white sacred beauty wildly longed for here

Rushed out to taste first flake when one would fall

To walk in shining snow a crystal dream

Real snow, so rarely seen in this moist mucky town

And now . . . all beauty's gone, gone blind and dead in me,

Like everything in me, all dead and blind and gone

hate snow, hate stupid snow, hate seeing it beyond the glass,

now hate it more, as it falls cold on me while shovel scrapes

just one more vicious form of water, lawless, violent

Making more danger, causing more vile dread

Revulsion comes in waves to push me down —

the snowmelt salt feels strange today, so heavy

hard to lift and — something nasty-new to me —

has clumped up hard, formed one big jagged salt-sharp rock

Must smash it loudly now on paving stone

Smash and bash and try to crush it many times

Must cut my hand, draw painless drops of brilliant blood

To force the stupid stuff to semi-working form

To bully, make it, all unwilling, comply — be of some use

***