Donald Hall
Like a wheelless car sliding through midnight’s icy
grog house, where tap water and rum mix,
dripping through the ghostly floor boards—
where minuscule masses of grey snowflakes drift
and the heartbeat of clocks halt like dust settling in frozen waves—
stirred in a puff by the foot’s step— imprinting ridges that remain
upright and granite as the moon’s new faceless protector.