Love thaws before freezing over,
setting twice as thick across
this film of a wearied stare.
Following the bridges back:
a rusted green lantern points
into the air, grasped by hands
like the dollar bills that donít
exist – not since the amnesty.
Cease-fire tensionís stress
creates a frozen last option:
the flat bed journey of day
seeps away instead, into
another water table where
only yesterday things seemed
fine, though overcast. Storms
hinted at did not appear –
bridges ice before highways here.