A mail truck is embedded in a snow bank
and it’s headlights flicker just like blinking eyes.
The letters are on fire from the engine
that is too convinced it’s dying to stop
burning all the fuel left in its tank.
She is watching from her empty street
while everyone is dialing their cellphones,
and knows that something in that blaze
was there for her.
Passing planes look like falling frozen birds
wrapped up in Christmas lights,
where all the lofty heights we harness break away.
The cold blooded can come out in the early
night and not be taken under by the absence.
These snakes eat all the winter hares
and do not care about what’s keeping them alive.
Promises stack up until they’re broken
in a domino effect that takes it all away.
What starts to melt around that ash heap
didn’t want to stay and wait for other seasons.
No matter what the correspondence
before that moment in the falling snowflake
avalanche the only message now is news
of this great fire born at edges
of a neighborhood that’s been holding on
with nothing but it’s breath.