Winter Poem

Beneath the snow
we could call the earth
naked. See, the winter’s
not angry, the winter’s
buttoning us up. Winter
forces us to put our hands
in our own armpits or
into another person’s
mouth. Winter keeps us
from licking light posts
and the postal service
jumping. Winter gives me
the cold ears of loved ones.
Clothes, strata of clothes,
conceal the vast majority
of us. Everything’s got
a bellybutton, hidden so that
when we see it, we’re
very much drawn to it .

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