Diane Mayr and Lisa Kilhefner

Diane Mayr
She Speaks Snow


Lisa Kilhefner
New York

Inspiration piece

New York
By Lisa Kilhefner

She sneezes; his heart wrinkles in a metal trashcan
on the corner of the room. He weeps, head heavy
like a New York blizzard.

He sweeps
the hair from her eyes, coarse fingers
graze her velvet brow.

She still has time. He listens, begs
for more, from God, from the clouds.
Her focus wanes, a windchime melody,
his almond eyes.

They move through the Holland Tunnel,
creeping, years before, escaping the city,
the ugly crowds. They are grey on grey,
emptying words onto each other.

She leaves him, then and now. She is white
and he is jealous of the evening sky.


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