The Divide

Rubber boots edge virgin snow, and your slender bodies
take on the sprinter’s form. All rush after snowplows
pass, to break their line and challenge
nervous discipline with flying powder and vaulting shrieks.
 
 
My eyes – with you.
 
 
Slide along your slapping feet, pant up smoking snowdrifts,
soar – then crash
on Little Mermaid jackets, Aladdin bags and Transformers toys, full
turn to see your bodies flailing happy.

Eyes with you, my body not. It’s more than asphalt
that divides. It’s silence, a watch
that holds my life in line, a mind unduly cluttered.

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