Stones of Old City

As winter endures, our
breath grows warmer and
wider, it moves from actualit
-y to memor-y.
The intricate, constrained
pavementation bears no
weight, draws no lines or geometries;
It supports no arguments or
interpretations.
Sanguine, bound shawls and shoes
are all that is needed to
regress - their
sound that's settling, if
only sound would end perhaps I
could be listening to myself.