Near the Park

by Dieu

The children have all
gone home
and it’s below zero outside.

And the winter sky is
as pale as bone
as people lean into
themselves all
lovely and alone.

And here I am,
looking for a sweet dream
among the wind
and pigeons and trees.

My hands are a steeple
above my heart,
and my feet are arrows
pointing me straight and true.

And the snow falls
lightly upon shoulders and eyelashes,
as I would like to fall
into you.