here, we came
to be afraid, vulnerable together

the snow,
outside
imagined
still cold
beautifully buffalo

with no sense
of things
instead, breathe
to be wholly unlike the snow

speak, reveal
small presents
of speech heat

cold crawls
up mohawk street

cars pass by,
now rain
the windows fog
damp with words,
language

the same air
fills our lungs
particles, of each other
pass in and out,
intimate

Profile: Patrick Riedy