from the tapped laptop, I core emotions
like an apple, skin them live, then bake
them, sealed. That is to say, I write this note
to you. I’m finishing the night’s first beer.
I need you wrapped around me, like a vine,
a net, a shroud. The snow oppresses: factory
ash. A lovely January day,
except it’s April. Birthday month, I don’t
forget. There’s champagne in the fridge for you,
Swiss Guard of microbrews for me. I keep
my saviors close, like enemies. We eke
out any joy we can, although the abstract’s
lame when combat’s hand-to-hand. I broke
the scraper on the windshield ice this morning.
Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits The Big Windows Review https://thebigwindowsreview.wordpress.com at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. His poems have appeared recently in Black Dog Review, 8 Poems, and Tiny Flames Press. Tom's website: https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com.