Kyrie Poem by Waldemar Ens

My hands are chapped
from this crackling cold dry air
especially the knuckles
and finger tips

need to use moisturizer ten times a day
to stop cracks from forming fissures
that reveal the pink flesh beneath

outside the snow keeps piling
like a Bach kyrie
all wind and despair

a white world of icy blasts
chapping the soul
until fissures form cracks
invaded by your healing love

a balm of kisses in this
winter’s
hunched
coldness