Weight

Somewhere nearby

there is someone else cutting their losses.

To sever that which no longer

functions in conjunction with the mass,
or that acts as an anchor in the

grand scheme of things

is always the strong way;

Preferential to being seized by the

slaughter of a fairy tale ending, anyway...

but it's not easy.

My window sills have a few inches

of deep snow on them—the silt of

the downfall—and the sight

of the pane is making me stop

and think about it all,

and how I want you to be the crux of it,

but you are so stubborn, and I

am wanting to sleep

because I can't run out and distract myself

from my livelihood or lack-thereof

like I usually do.

The branches on my trees outside

are weighed down by the aftermath of the storm,

and so am I.