Snow

Snow
a new kind of foliage 
setting the landscape in high contrast 
and turning the floor into puddles.
Snow
which lays in flakes on your lovers eyelashes
and seeps from the sky,
each snowflake is an epiphany
each snowflake is a kiss.
Snow
is for children
who come in pink and crying
and for hands, gnarled with time,
which grumble in the morning,
wielding a shovel. 
Snow
is made of soggy mittens
and shivering bare legs, 
which refuse the pants, so well advertised
for the sake of power.
Snow
is purity,
as it languishes,
filthy and stained in the street
and clings to the underside of my car
snow is purity
surely,
stained with piss and blood and soot.
Snow 
is a girl, just thirteen 
who sits at her window,
and watches it fall.