To A Boy Entombed

A horse on the wall of their hotel room

carried her away to a place she’d always go,

and yet, had never been: to a boy,

entombed in falling snow, out in the moon-

light, throwing his voice against her

window, which glowed yellow in the night.

He sang out his life, lying

frozen against the earth: for her.

Thirty years later tears dropped

down her cheeks to the bedsheets

while her husband rested his hand on her

neck, her shoulder, her arm:

a stone feather.  And snow tapped

silently against the window.