Northward

And so, you followed
the girl to a
grayer place.

You, more a thought
than a person, more a
dream than a hand

that touched me
one night in the grass
that tingled
on my back.

You followed that girl
to a place with more rain,
more cold, darker green.

You faced north
and opened your arms
to the blankness of snow.

I am not hidden
in the ice.
I cannot crack

but only chisel and sand
away at
the bone.

*This is a poem from a couple years ago.