what is she thinking and where is she looking
off to her left, behind the tree covered in snow and ice,
left behind after an arctic storm, clinging after Chinook
winds that shake houses, spirits rattling inside like
glass shards in a thermos, carelessly dropped to
the ground, the wine glass still showing the stain
of last night's excessive wine.
does it show in her eyes, a slight fog, or does her
color shine through it so no one would be the
wiser.
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