Walking in Town on a Snowy Evening
previously published in Wormwood Review

I may have to move to New York to finish this poem
(I’ve never been there). I’m trying to write a sonnet.

In Marquette in the winter I like to wear black at night.
That way the drivers can tell me apart from the snowbanks.

I’m walking–trying to think of a new idea
so that when my grave is covered up in snow
a bunch of professors I probably wouldn’t like
will make their students analyze my poems.

-

Somebody told me once (a million times)
that every single snowflake is unique.

So I walk along this street (I’m sure it has
a name) I walk alone along this street
and watch a million individuals
fall from the sky and turn my jacket white.