The idea of our marriage formed and dissolved,
too quick to capture. I forget whose idea it was:
I can’t recall your ever having been indoors.
You were out all day, wet-mittened, working with your blue
hands in a blizzard, oblivious. You spent the year
with your eye on the weather, the clouds bursting white
like unstitched pillows. We made our agreement
to you, the same no matter how you looked?
The morning brought you a gift of a storm