Winter Room---1/16/08

Winter Room

You make me into gingerbread,
partaking of me when I'm raw
and I always take the same shape.
(You don't even bother to notice
the red icing.)

You're pouting into your beer as if it will respond
anything like I do.
To you I am concave
you think it's some miracle or other
when you know it's only science,
(evolutionary pity.)

I am making you my song on repeat
you swing violently back to the beginning
a backhand in the key of D
(slightly out of tune.)

If only I could reduce you
by taking your photograph
to blot you out
and reinterpret.
If only I could sanatize everything you've touched;
sew it up.
Still I wait for the change of seasons
for a thaw...
but you are winter
(cold son of a bitch)