First Snow

. . . five-teen and walking
the "Quad" at the "U",
first winter in Michigan.
Ann Arbor has a body of water between
it and Hell.  My body felt
snow falling, flurry white,
for the first time.
It was cold on my face,
but I was warm in the pea-jacket
and watch-cap my father bought me.
White ice on blue
wool is still very real,
very physical to me.
It is that
kind of snow that makes it
winter, and remembering the first touch
of a beauty that can kill.
It washes away the years
between what I was,
what I am.

          published in For the Love of Death, the early years, 2nd ed., S.I.N., 1993.