Alley blown snow settles peacefully
over the freedom of the dispossessed,
muffles their howls
up twenty story nightmares
Dressed in costumes
from decades no one remembers,
they stall in storefront glare,
defying all that’s sane and certain
Suddenly the bottle is empty,
the sky unravels, and they curl
into madness fuming from a grate —
curs with uncut hair
Together they will be raised
at that most marginal of moments,
come broken toothed and marble eyed,
scratching at the panes of our sleep