Feb 4

Feb 4 The boy remembers his father while walking in the snow

Finger line blighted
He runs the gulf
Frosted letters
Slain,
against curbs lined straight.
Marred deep
Black tires
Boyish fracas stopped
Scarf knots by mother
Fog breath alone
Icy.
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Strewn without hope
Into gutters well lathered
By weather last felt
No sun he be I;
Instant notes of oblivion
A raffish young boast
Tips hat and lit cane
From movies slowed white
Subtitles in foreign script
His finger still lingers.
On the note
He doth not praise
Ego starched years
Upraised memories
No matter the time
He runs away
No matter the time
No matter the time.