Snow so heavy and silent
The carriage takes us onward
Beneath the blanket upon our knees
Her hand awkwardly seeks mine
This is not the time for intimacy
Besides I think of cock and
I cannot write if no one is listening
At my uncles house the ritual will begin
Feasts and pageants and the white wall
Pine trees marking the path
I must walk alone to find nobility
Knife slicing through my belly
She cannot walk it with me
Shivers a little as if knowing
Snow falling heavier now
Quiet in the absence of language
Like a blanket that calms
Wrapping the world up
Like the abandoned baby
It always will be
© shaun patrick green 2013
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