from On the Ground
by Fanny Howe

copyright © 2004 by Fanny Howe

Not a rink but ashed-over ice
Rain on a windshield, a green light

Apartments made of dirt, neon
hangers outlined in the cleaner’s window

I think proximity is the abyss
between God and us because

every fabric of my body is trying
to know why saying

I love you
in a time of extremity is a necessity