Argument in Winter

Tempest of glass; houses

encased in ice. Her words
are arrows; my eyes, flame.
The river moves from dark
to dark; the city: an arena.
She stands on the first step.
Her white dog grips a tree limb
in its jaw, shakes the toy in air.
When I speak, wind shifts.
Where my voice starts,
trees shatter. As she moves,
the city freezes: a blown rose
in a glass sphere. Night rains
slivers of petals. Music of bone,
there is a music of flesh.
One storm ends. Drops glaze
leafless boughs. One begins.