PETER GRANDBOIS

SOMETIMES I THINK I’LL NEVER LEAVE

because snow dusts the driveway without fear of the sun’s reprisal

and I can’t solve the window’s geometry of rime

because the spider’s web beneath the foot of the basement stair keeps
coming back

and I can’t remember where I live

because too many mice have already come to grief in the crawlspace

and the ends of my of shaved beard spill over the edge
of the sink like blackened footprints

because deep within the furnace looms a yellowed dome of light

and my hands are too cold to open

because beneath the laundry pile lie wings of silence
reminding us

of our fall