february, argh. it goes on and on. snow every day. every day so
tired of winter. the dog's back leg is weak and turns out, 
the muscles need to swim. they atrophy
we have not swum since november. i remember when he swam in ice, 
floated on icebergs, calm and peaceful. 
we won't swim til may. we gradually disintegrate. we're particles 
like snow and ash and bone fragments. erosion, cataclysm, power and time. 
elements and filaments, crystal molecules, light and air. 
i remember the winter we scattered my father 
in the wind around his childhood haunts 
in chicago. wind of want. 
wind dropped his ash, wind blew him back 
in our faces, our coats
we wore motes of him. his dust riding home. 
like me he started with an egg. egg man. 
he had to crack some egg. he had to get inside. 
a perfect form it was to crack, it. 
yolk to dust, bone pollen.
it starts with an egg it can't be 
put together again. 
after many winters
still thinking him.