the pen so cold
snow is edging the city
and wind test the monuments
their verdigris work of the soul

there will always be dancing
at the bar americain
though the tongue freezes
without speech
and all along the boulevard
people press their lives
into the sounds in their heads

there's something tender in stone
the cold frees it
the living stand with flowers
and feel the coming sleet

water is more than rain
there's no sleep beyond the night
and now is always interruption
sweeping away the leaves

I cover my head
where the cold falls