The winter crush of the North
Bearing down against my lungs
Expelling fragments of fickle ice, brittle sighs
So dark and sharp, these winter nights
I should have saved up the daylight
Like rainy day money, in a tin can or the back of my shoe
An Atlantic evening, this desperate cool
Enveloping and oppressing
Searching for gaps in white paper sheets
Through which to breathe,
Escape the urge to suffocate
Under the crush, the rush,
Of winter lust