Sunday, January 30, 2011

A winter poem by Bill Holm


After midnight the blizzard howls itself out,

the wind sleeps, a tired lover.
Before bed, I think of you

and play the Meistersinger quintet

over and over, singing
along on all the parts,
dancing though the house
like a polar bear who thinks
it has joined the ballet.
You are in my arms, dancing too;
whirling from room to room;
frost crusted on the window
begins to glow like lit up faces.
My five fingers, now on fire
like these five voices singing,
imagine touching the skin
over your shoulders

No comments: