face to face
in february life stood still.
the birds refused to fly and the soul
grated against the landscape as a boat
chafes against the jetty where it’s moored.
the trees were turned away. the snow’s depth
measure by the stubble poking through.
the footprints grew old out on the ice-crust.
under a tarpaulin, language was being broken down.
suddenly, something approaches the window.
i stop working and look up
the colours blaze. everything turns around.
the earth and i spring at each other.