You have given me
too much: two pearls, two moons ascending–
luminous, miraculous,
like your two hands as I see them in dreams.

A man I know is out in it, bent
on a senseless errand. He chafes his hands,
mutters into his frozen bears. If
he returns, he will tell stories
of pigeons fallen like stones
from their perch under the El
while wondering whether I would mourn
his passing.