snow used to mean
something.
like i did.
now we are

a nihilistic white
that falls and falls.
let me be broken,
a little, a fence

to keep you out,
sliding to ruin
amid the night-canals, iron-
frozen and fragile.

the high grass there
whispers shatteredly,
makes me think
of breaking glass.

there is so much
that i would break,
corazon. we fall and fall,
but there is no erasing:

the river stays dark,
and you, distant,
as if there were nothing
to hop, nothing at all.