Industry was stopped today, Saturday
February 17th at 3:45 EST
The loading docks were shut
the trucks silent, lights off, barrels empty
only the trash was making itself busy,
bustling about the yard
The cold winter gate, closed tight
fastened with a brown chain
and a rust speckled padlock
the dead sky above neither shifted
nor faltered in its pursuit
of absolute true grey
the least black, and the scarcest white
certain in its lack of opinion
Obstinate in its decision
Heavy and unyielding.
not even the gulls
would dare cut its thick cold skin
Alacrity faded into the winter
wetted with snow, hardened by ice
crusted in salt. and cracked.