Bryant Park Fountain in the Winter

(Written January 24, 2011, 10:18 pm.)

The cold stupefies and mollifies.
The water smells of lullabies.
Some of it dries and some of it flies.
Some of it rests and some of it tries.
The ice codifies a whole body of lies.
The numbness is a bittersweet surprise.
The light breaks its darkest ties.
The air tastes of frozen goodbyes.