-montreal, quebec
sidewalk icicle slant,
we can't
save the corporations from themselves,
nor is that even worth the effort,
she decides, in both english and french,
a scarf sealing her face like a tomb.
a cell-phone talker in a dark parka
considers going underground,
where the only seasonal sanity
can be found.
the puzzle-piece tiles, glaciated,
in desperate need of repair,
as an elderly woman with shocking hair
sticks her face out the window,
all bubble-breaths of visible air,
and the temperature hovers low
and it will continue to do so,
for six more months,
until the defrosted scalp of mont royal
begins to bear green, and the loose cobbles
of the old city are not slick and mean,
and the first hardy swimmer
does three laps in the st. lawrence
without suffocating in sleet.
