Seasons Greetings
Oh man
of bread and water,
leafless tree
among the conifers -
here is your chance
in the crabbed, stuffed subway car
the forced bitch and belch
of packages and everybody else
to resign, to admit the crowd.
But no.
To wait this weakened moment through
is the nature of a king.
As they came, so they go
everyone in twos and threes,
eventually
will walk home,
stamping a snowy path
for those who walk alone,
for those who sort the mail,
latch the door,
retire to tea and crackers;
and when singers come door to door,
snap shades and curtains closed.
The window is cold -
a thin, invisible stone -
against the fingers,
against the cheek,
against the bone,
when streets have emptied
and everyone has gone.