– a matter of degrees-
by doreen peri
Posted to Poetry on 2001-09-29 18:23:00
– a matter of degrees-
it’s just a matter of degrees in winter
and i’m on a crooked path
dug in deep from the wood pile
to an empty house
with wrappings
in constellations
off shiny paper
’round gifts —
hearts and stars
left beneath
unopened.
i’m in the middle
of nowhere
and there’s nothing
parenthetical
amid the static
of drifts toward
sides of the roads
which can shock and bite.
my fire isn’t made of
pressed wood from shavings
and i wish i could see you
two inches away
and hold your face
between my hands,
looking beyond your pain.
but i guess i’m just a leaf
caught on a spider web
hanging from its own weave
on the window
reflecting christmas lights
not shared, encased by
a thick layer of
frozen tears.
there was an ice storm
and it blew in winter quick,
limbs having just grown
from the death of the freeze,
spring budding despite the season –
cocoons trapped within
a quarter-inch-thick of
see-through liquid longing
hard around my heart,
and i’m trying
to let it melt –
but once it starts to thaw,
i’m afraid night might roll in
and it could freezes back,
slick spots forming
which can’t be detected
from behind the wheel.
it’s very obvious now
that my tires could spin
on the pavement
because of the thawing
and refreezing,
not enough tread
for the grasp.
this is zero zero
but next year
will be
zero one,
or so i hear.
and so i scan my surroundings
and notice there’s plaster
around the casing
for my dimmer switch
so i can’t get it straight
and the light’s are
turned up
all the way
and i’m looking at
reflections off
an evergreen
wondering how
anything stays alive forever
through bitter winds and frost
because love always dies on me
and i’m wishing i was
the present
underneath
ready to be
unwrapped by you.
but now i realize that
it’s a matter of
degrees in winter
and sometimes
roadways need
to be cleared.
the warmth is still here
in my heart fire
and i am just
two inches and
light years away —
my hands holding
your face
only a matter of degrees
closer than winter thawed
by ice crunched in
the melt of us.
