Muzzle

In a bleary part of town,

I traverse the blackboard silence of snow.

Through the slats of the cypresses

Flounce paper-white feathers of snow.

On the red leaves of my palms

Distend melted messages of snow.

The road is iron anvil

Stinging with sparks of snow.

My nocturnal heart thrums

In white wasp whir of snow.

Moonlight purls like nectar

Sweetening the blandness of snow.

Glaucous berries hang from the rowans

Like frostbitten pearls of snow.

Mice hide in the lee of alders,

Shirking the cold tusks of snow.

Shadows vine like crewelwork

On linen twill of snow.

Around your black spade pupil

Lurks an avalanche of snow.

I wish you’d toss your cards

Like fireworks against cumuli of snow.

Instead, my name catches in your throat,

Congealed in its amnion of snow.