a virgin winter

when the cold comes rolling in, it hits my ears first

damn near freezes them off, keeps ‘em red and

then i’ve got to shove my fingers into my pockets

and duck into a hat

and by the time i’ve done that, it’s dark outside

my gaze turns and turns as if i were 

a lighthouse 

encased 

in an acrylic box

nothing can permeate, but i feel that something’s

out there

i have

a knowing.

sleep comes only after a fight

and, really, i’m just trying not to think of you.

but when i am rushing home, shoving

through the air

i’m hunting for warmth.

what else am i supposed to think of, if not you?

and when the dark finds me,

it is not enough

to rock myself to bed,

it is not enough to

dampen my pillow

i can’t focus on anything

but the absence

of your arms