Heart (snow falling)
No matter what door you return through—
inches falling—in pitch of night confettied,
in dawn-light: no matter: I will put you out
over and again until what matters most—
the not knowing of what I do not know—
rises in the now moonlight as the final inch
begins to crust toward shine and I speak so:
Go out, heart, into it. Do not return. Because mine
is a body caught, because submit is not your answer—
and because you, like the enchanted moon, are good.
Bio Note
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