as the sun is to the city
in the endless weeping winter
so is joy to me, and pity
when he leaves me, falsely tender
like the true love’s knot we tethered
plastic ivy ‘round the portal
for to frame the spring forever
though the blizzard took the mortal holy rose
it’s always winter when he goes
as a matter of convenience
we don’t speak of dying gardens
as a woman of heart and lenience
i make liberal with my pardons
i am generous with kindness
he, with smiles and exultations
though he binds his wounds in silence
i my own in practiced patience, lest he know
it’s always winter when he goes
he collects the twigs and briars
i stack them up for fire
but it’s chilly for the burning
he slumbers in the straw
i hold out for the thaw
but the seasons won’t be turning
as i’m writing you this letter
the bluestem’s runnin riot
the daisies break their fetters
and the bees will not lay quiet
if you find him where he’s dancin
with his lover or his jailer
say in april’s splendid mansion
i lay broken by his trailer in the snow
it’s always winter when he goes