Down a hill
scales and sheen
like moonlight

I wandered strange
print of winter
ruin, split twin

to sternum
the silent frost
character undone

clear to know now
that I am a golem I am
a frozen station

terrible scenes best
not recounted- when I
saw a woman rocking

back and forth
a glass doll
refused whimper

for its breakfast- mad
yearning for black bread
and summer was what

separated men
from boys-
the drill instructor

nailed imperatives
to chalk foreheads-
constructive scorn

sweat out lust
furtive passion
sweethearts

and picture stars-
the canvas sheets
dreamt of silent film

South Bend meadows
slick forgetful tears
of yearling widows

as we evaporated
fitfully
through their arms

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