And it's sure not "What's it worth?"

You focus dilated eyes

Over cold, concrete earth.

And as you stare, a fog receding,

Visions appear suspended and plain,

Floating there, forming al fresco,

Moist shadows, in bright northern rain.

Paramedic, leaning to you.

Brushes blossoms, sends frozen pollen

Dropping toward a patch of dirt, near

Your cloak of white sleet, quickly fallen.

And as it lands, its quiet detonations,

Cause what you see to juxtapose,

Rebounding clouds of atomized soil

Encased in icy embryos.

He smears the hair back from your eyes.

You're the sweating pieta

The newspaper that was your pillow

Sticking to your ashen face

And as you rouse, with the moment receding

Congested windshields reflect your embrace,

Falling crystals singing in spirals,

Inconsistent patterns, insistent space.