Jan Sand (February 2 1926 / USA)
Helsinki cold, in February
Shakes your hand on every doorknob.
'I've been waiting here outside, ' it says,
'Please let me come in.'
Small smile, and a nod, no eye contact.
Brusquely, you shove past.
Its tinney voice hums through the keyhole.
It swings saplings against outer walls.
It puts its mouth to the edge of window panes.
'Let me in.', it pleads with marble eyes.
Downstairs, you turn the furnace up.
It whistles in patient desperation.
Twenty below freezing.
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