James Tate




Dear Reader

I am trying to pry open your casket
with this burning snowflake. 


I'll give up my sleep for you.
This freezing sleet keeps coming down
and I can barely see. 


If this trick works we can rub our hands
together, maybe 


start a little fire
with our identification papers.
I don't know but I keep working, working 


half hating you, half eaten by the moon.