*

You try to imagine the mirror
though there was an understanding
the jacket would not show through

and you could lift your chin
into the same wingspan
that hangs over this frost

just now coming in
already in front, same place
same time and at each get-together

the jacket tags along
as if it and the skyline
for a long time had been one

could reach across, cover your arms
with ice and any minute now
-what year is this? your shadow

still wants its back to the sun
already melted down
so it can leave even in winter

as that single-minded descent
sent ahead
and everything open.

                           
SIMON PERCHIK