Enrique Diego Flores, St. Petersburg, Russia, 2012 (35 mm film)
I turn each world wrong to wake it
Flakes flit at different speeds
of need of want of not yet
and settle onto false springs
A thrush spitting wet concrete
into a nestful of open mouths
Children playing tag in a field
sown with landmines
The snow stills Each sky clears
its conscience The tragedies
in my life started small
and meant well then sheered
Why can’t I let them stay buried