"Forget About the Sound of Her Voice When It’s
3 a.m. and Snowing"
from Arbor Vitae 2.4
by Troy Schoultz
Instead, concentrate on how
the house across the way
resembles a wistful, rectangular skull,
windows given eyes of intellect
by way of electric holiday candles.
Imagine the blizzard as falling purity,
reflecting streetlight, a glowing gift,
teaser of dawn. Enjoy the lack of headlights,
a police or ambulance siren
the sole whisper and proof of the living.
Instead brace yourself for these colorless months
and abbreviated days,
relearning to sleep in the middle
of a queen size bed, dreaming
of lilacs, mosquitoes and rain.