this winter i am alone but you are still somehow everywhere i am
i walk, hunched shoulders against the howl, through
the tunnels of this city, grey palace of race and chrome, and
somewhere in the rush of juries, judges and felons
is your name. somewhere between church and the vacuous hiss
of snow around my ears is the timbre of your voice.

this winter i am present but still somehow you pull me
away from what this is, the ease of connection to one's body when
knees and biceps and cheeks all tremble together
in the bitter wind, the press of traffic, and i have lost the ability
to speak back to the rhythm of my blood when you take me by surprise:
on every street corner, a flickering lamp of your heartbeat.