Face To Face

Under the staggering gaze of the full moon,
Her face the face I love
Reveals cold weight of winter
Illuminating purple snow
And hills where geese wait.
Her round largess at the horizon
Sets off shrill squawking
Silhouettes rise across her redolence.
Do angels fly on such nights?
Lovely as swans— white on white,
Unseen, except as reflection.
After the hill, the geese, the angels,
We stare face to face
She turns not from my scarring,
The beauty-less form I shadow.
Her white breath softens my face
Her frozen light caresses my hair
Daring me to reveal more.