The ice forms early
The smoke of the fire settles over
the black water
I see the night sky in that flat mirror

The small way to eternity is through ice
Evidently you must be cold to allow something
like ice to give direction
otherwise it splashes and teases you at your feet,
a surprisingly different thing

Skaters break though the thin ice in no time at all
there is a line of them waiting to fall in
We want the perfect wet ice, and slick as anything
We will not wait for the thickening, when
it buckles and strains against the shore,
It is clotted and gray, no longer natural glass
able to see yourself upside down and gliding
a perfect replica, inverted.

Ice and water have different smells
because the ice traps our regular air
and we don’t even miss it.