Winter empties graves,
sanity held together with frayed
bootlaces, and the fossil grip
of gnarled bones.
Tension rises like yeast dough beside
a lit hearth.
Take care, you girls who wander
the ribbon of your smile
is a bullfighter’s cape to a past
The North wind has seen it before
Blizzard cries out like an anxious
memory, howling and raw, and
river ice sheets moan.
Close the window, darling,
Ghosts need no company.