...ghost...

in abstentia

what can replace the body

or the sensual

taste touch tonic

the denile of essential

oils and fragrance

loyal to you and I

and afraid

of growing wilder

not older

in its absense

...grin...

a smile on her face

turning upwards

until it reaches skies

(that process)

...cold melt...

the snow left

behind is no match

for the sun that wants

to glare through

make the water

cold in the power

that it wields

even at this particular angle

and time of our day

...plight...

you can only

feel so much for them

before you start

to realize that you

are suffering just

the same as them

...white piles...

thank you for this white blessing

and this day of white reflection

as the white piles up

and the white pillars fall

all the way to the street

only to become grey

not the way it is supposed to

be not this white purity

that takes away this grey

pavement and dismay from us

so that we can blanket

today anew and start with

the snow, finish with calm

that it has brought

in the guise of a storm

...warning or watch...

never a surprise

even to the predictors

of depths and images

and snowdrifts

radars and crystal

ball rooms full

of white and grey and pink

clouds with latitudes

and longitudes for tattoos

salters and spreaders

to first instigate

then deaden the pain

that proceeds frostbite

and white out blind winds

...red night...

knowing that red

at the dance red at the light

red in Harlem dancing

to the cold fears that

are outside the buildings

and circling the streets

warm inside warm and red

on the side of the walk

and the tread of the boots

as the song sings its chorus

and you sway red to the beat

to the red light

and the red red night