Conditions / Of The Hour

These tiny 

potatoes

wax tiny 

talismans. 

outside rasp

berries thaw. 

we clutch sin

less against

countertops

while missiles

spread shrapnel

elsewhere real

& invis

sible. bled

artichoke

hearts, tongues glassed

or embalmed.

the backyard:

a passage

of dovesong,

our gestures

genuine

albeit

marginal.

to retort

we have time

we are fools,

we ask what

animates

this snowfall.