Let’s play snowed in. Let’s play all sound
drowned out by storm. Let’s substitute weather
for trees, let’s rest like mercury sub-zero.
Inside privacy, light’s pulled thin. Slo-mo
the roads gap from salt, machinery gentling.
We pull climate inside our chests, swaddle
cotton batting around the gilt deer,
sssh. Having lost our wonder under cars,
down vents—we felt the estrangement
as low-grade fever but suddenly it’s back.
Saying, stop clicking. Saying, spherical
hour. Saying, stand in the yard post-
midnight and see how loud your breath.