the purple night nests under my tongue
& i hide from lamplight, afraid
of the shadows it casts.
there's a book hiding too, with snowy bones:
face down beneath the bus stop bench like a waterlogged crime scene.
i pretend not to notice the things that need saving.
at the red light, holiday music cracks through windowpanes:
tonight, the world has chosen to be loud.
i hide my hands from the weather in worn mittens
wondering why people bottle up blizzards in their throats.
ten blocks ahead,
there's a broken bottle by the side of the road.
glass glints dark & dull against dirty snow.
an empty skeleton:
the words it once housed are long gone
stolen by rogue winds.