Body in the snow like the Sessho-Seki
You, hull of jadite, lack any desire
Without your own you’ve come seeking ‘want’ from other people
You, qubit palladium bird sculpture
Today you’re thinking of all the European fantasies you played service-boy to
You, thrusted object
His fixation on the size of your areolas
You, patterned vase sitting in a room, exist only in this kind of weather
Nobody talks about how winter hovers its mouth over your shoulder
You are sure to remember
That a certain hour of pre-dawn will hide anything it can
You stop wanting when you are told to
God made the cold to remind you of nothing
You are the only decorative object on this train
Does this snow invite your nudity the same way he did
You forget to say no
Does the winter want you the same way
You go away
Body against white everything
You come back