The Way of It

Listen. This is the way of it:

we open our eyes & it rains

splinters of ice. Sharp digs

that you can miss if you duck. I want

to be more like a shield: something

that prevents. Something that keeps

other things warm and unharmed. I am,

however, a sieve, letting things

through. A leaking pipe. A kind

of window screen at the mercy of the

winter wind. We open our chests &

out blows the litany of needles &

narratives. Listen. This is the thumping

sound of hooves in my blood & yours

there is only one way to make love

there is only one way to save the world.