Anorak

in the beginning
a real train whistle
some vague distance away

awakens her
to a day
of not speaking

in the beginning
snow steadily covers
rain puddles

to form a land
of slush and chain mail
curtains backlit blue

the fire is dying
no one comes
to stoke it

the room cools
watery eyes
tears or not

numb is not an emotion
neither is cold
nor birds that migrate away

in the beginning
hooded and alone
she breaks the silence

Alexa tell me
another math joke
the tragedy of parallel lines

echoes in the atrium
the blank brick wall
is not really blank

or made of brick
there are no clean slates
where did you come from

you angular piece
of terracotta tile
your clay origins form

the next regularly scheduled
in the beginning
she will hear

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