one memory

(poem in progress)

You Ask for One Memory of You

After a night of shiraz and smokes

and people I hardly know,

you walk me home

through the thinnest hours

before dawn and snow,

so cold

our teeth might freeze to our lips

if we dare smile.

On the icy sidewalk

outside my apartment

we shake hands

through thick mittens.

That is as close

as we ever get

—wool on wool—

and it is enough.

HMMooreNiver