I was too broke
to buy earmuffs,
and you lacked the cash
for a scarf,
so we grew them, like farmers:
crops of string-curls
clapping over my earlobes,
itchy brown chops
wrapped ‘round your chin.
But I’m chopping off
my hair-hat,
and you’re shivering
for a shave—
so when it snows,
you’ll have to hold
my hand tight,
like a glove.
Winter Wear
Backyard Apricots 