They say the Eskimos have over 200 words for the word snow
Like so many things that turn out not to be true
I woke today to 24 years ago
And she walking the miles from her dorm
To meet me in the snow
In the South it never snows
Though today it did
and we have only one word for it:
Party! And though we never made love
anywhere near it (you were just a child
sledding through your window
perhaps gathering snowballs
with your sisters, Snowman thoughts
beginning to shape in your warm hands,
the roar of the hair dryer over your feet)
Like so many things that turn out not to be true
I must have had over 200 words for you:
Jackie, Jane, Julie, Mary…
In the state of innocence
There are infinite variations on the word love
Incoherent beating syllables
Perfect articulation of the heart
The rise and fall
The liquid utterance
The folds of time in my arms
The pure white silence
Where we go.


©2007 by Ray Sweatman