frozen to the ground
I’d see on my way to work
when you weren’t covered with snow.
So now I’m supposed to explode syntax?

For a week you looked perfectly
resting, minky, burying your secret
so the grass would tell it in spring.
So now I allude to a Renaissance painting?

Bodies in motion tend to stay in motion
then not. A trace of magnesium, gold,
rot in the haunts of chance
but you are still locked in myth,

your twitchy-tailed gods offering
leaves for your nest, cellophane,
then stabbing you from the wire.
So now we address mitigating social forces?

I didn’t approve matters much
trying to pry you up
for the trash.

Sometimes feelings go so far then quits.
the green goes brown at the tip or
you turn back before reaching the sea,
it’s late and you want to wash your car.

Sometimes pressures create translucence,
usually a squashed mess. I forgot
about you in your preservation
until daffodils have nosed you aside.