handiwork
on the second night i really thought we could
be something, snow gilded the ground lightly
with one finger. while you wrapped yourself
in an old story, told aloud, i watched the way
the tale lit your face up, even in the dark. even
in the cold, the seven-hour snow, even tucked
into a booth with our friends and fluorescent
lighting all around us, your sharp features
shone like a good thing that was finally coming
around for me. in your body, i find enough
reasons to believe in god. he would not
begrudge me, i think, admiring his handiwork.
you wouldn’t either.
