Frozen Dirt

 
I come in
to your space, this concrete
gaze rests the moment

vacant

in February;

kneeling, no,

stepping down, me to you, above—
where ice and mud mix
while a river runs down there
beyond sight
slightly freezing over.

I can still hear it flow. Barely

as is my attempt to watch
through the trees while
before me is still this stone

rests some dates and names—

I want to look away
and feel the wet against my face
as if it is the rain

or so I hope it was the rain.

***

David Marquard is an assistant professor of English at Ferris State University in Big Rapids, Michigan. He teaches writing, rhetoric, and linguistics.