Coup 3/8
The mound of snow is melting
turning black – it is a pile of gravel
scraped off the bottom
of a riverbed – or from a quarry
near some graveyard somewhere in Pennsylvania
It is a glacier in Brooklyn
a piece falls suddenly – making that snow sound
under all of that cold there are
bits of road – seven foot slashes of curb
Everything pools in the center
to the side of the road in ditches overfilled
neatly arranged leftovers form a buffet of weather
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