THE CEREMONY IN SOUND AND IMAGE Comments

The first flakes of snow spiralled from the sky like confetti.
Rejoicing everywhere, everywhere the crackle of fireworks,
children stuck their tongues out to taste the cold.

Sleep is a painless exercise in concentration, a wandering
through a house in search of an object, of someone who shouts
I'm here. Sleep is the silent ticking of a clock,

a snowman lingering beneath a tree after a night full of
congratulations, its wobbly upper body frozen fast
to its lower, a tragic protest in a surface forever whiter.
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