Three Poems

November

thirst paws its frozen dish,
a heartbreak of no snow.

hunger cocks its head,
makes the sound of wind
blowing through a ribcage.

 

December

a room's not made by walls
but temperature. out there

drip woolens, steaming
on the fender.

in here are small things,
caught in mid-scrabble.

 

January

tracks break off,
a small disturbance of snow.

you cannot open
rabbit's eye.
its pupil
is a new moon.