Please don’t take me from my hinges.
Love, Door. Love, me. Love,
the hinged self in charge of remaining
tacked. Gravity has tact, even when
it’s bringing us down. Fall on ice,
bring ice to your ache. The thunder
in thundersnow is loud even as the snow
wants to cancel it, wants to eat the noise.
Ice, you are so needy, you want a body
to tumble against you, I get it.
But ouch. Falling hurts already, why
are you so damn bruise-hungry.
I turn my chair backwards and sit
close to you, I want to understand you,
I’m trying to be the cool teacher
leveling with you after class but
I don’t know your language. Dear wind,
what in the world could you want
all of these leaves for.