ant5

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your thoughts recede

a chill and the smell

of sweat

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the stray keeps

close to the dying

cat

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winter rose

grips itself

tighter

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off the highway

you find

your edge

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grain dust drifts

down on the ink

and blurs it

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yesterday’s warmth

ice wings on

the windows

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if you were a bicycle

you wouldn’t

have gears

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winter holds the moon

the stars stay

out of reach

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in moonlight

the dog avoids

the sick hen

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smaller than

a gnat it doesn’t

have a name

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