Serendipity Says

I am ready to move beyond the blank flurries,
the voice of solitude, which banks next to me
and sails over my neighbor's roof --

I am ready for a forecast, for a simple weather drop,
but this is my sixth season remembering you
and as I count back days, it would seem that daylight
no longer keeps time; you are at a distance

i could never reach

somewhere between my watch tower and my neighbor's roof.
there is the sound of water in the back of my mind,
it reminds me of the clack of your teeth and rolling eyes.

i released you into the darkness of a sleet-gray night.
your brother was on the phone, hanging onto each absence;
you were dead on arrival and i died

with the wind