this midnight i wouldn’t kiss you

as we walked the nightmare streets,
cold thoughts wrapped in wool scarves
scratching against the hard words.
You step off the edge,

nearly falling. I wouldn’t catch you, even if I tried 
tonight, nursing wounds. Piercing dog cries
paw at the heels of things I should not have said...

(excerpted from the longer poem)

found in The Shape of Caught Water

http://redmountainpress.us/

or directly from the author (covelli@cybermesa.com)