The Brunt of Every Winter

poor man:
were you blacked out when you said goodnight?
without a shirt in the street
the red wet clay
solemn sky:
were you blacked out when you said goodbye?
without a star
a windless ache upon the neighbor's houses

I'll travel on to leave behind the northeast,
my father
a swimming pool, the sticky heat, the south
and my mother

what will i have?
what will i have come winter?

will i have a home come winter?
or will i hang from rafters of icy timber?
like the miller and his wife who i try but i still can't find
she left a blueprint of destined colds
the brunt of every winter
she left her mark beneath her feet
of chalk as faint as glimmer

what will i have?
what will i have come winter?