* These windows know all about lakes hiding among the dead –by instinct the glass freezes, just so and slowly you carve two initials as if the name underneath would follow the way a small hole heats the ice, lures the fish closer taking hold though the glare is already marshland, drains where one finger let go the other and the room fills counts on you to come. * This bloom still reckless, its heat breaking into the furious hum bugs use for melting snow –there’s no interest in romance though every winter now is warmed, takes hold your hand by brushing against the dirt risks its place to lure you, naked in front the house, her breasts surrounded and across your tongue a lingering darkness welcomes them knows nothing why your fingers smell from avalanche and salt and never had that taste for sweets moving mouth to mouth snatching things up, louder and louder certain thi...