When the canal froze over

When the canal froze over
Christmas trees rose to the surface
like corpses
of all the bad things
we did
last year.

Buses sagged at the belly
and squealed.
On corners
bodies
pressed up against bodies;
faces
swaying in the aisle.

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Thirties

  Your birthday came early;
  shoots and leaves
  from the trees in the yard, 
  fingers
  on the glass
  when we woke.

  Too drunk to fuck
  you watched with half-moon eyes
  sly from wine when I tried;
  the gentle thrum of cartoons through the wall
  a sad serenade.

  By late afternoon
  a storm churned outside,
  dark clouds burst;
  the moon
  a wink on the horizon. 
  You cooked eggs 
  while I slept
  the whistle from the kettle 
  shrill
  when it came to the boil.