Dawn Town Ice
November 7, 2011, by Homme de Sept-Îles
the bleak high squeak of hidden wires
stubbled brakes
heavy, bold winter tires
over wet snow, over dry
the asphalt tundra underneath
his, the third car.
copper bolts
brass blade
leather sinew
frost fade
his gift stick
embossed
glitters
and the twinkle
of december dew
on frost plants
hanging from rusted eaves
that somehow survive
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