JACOB LEE BACHINGER

Winter Marriage

Reach through the falling snow
to where thorntrees clutch
small parcels of sky
on the crest of the white hill.

Reach through the raging dream
to where hagbirds grasp
small parcels of night
on the crook of your ribcage.

Reach through the darkness
across the bed, past thorn bramble
and birds. In her parcel
of sleep she gives no reply.