Stained pink by the sun, snow covers
the parking lot. Dark gravel can
be seen under its frost, crystals
dotting the stones like diamonds. No
gold chains for prismatic stones
that will fade, and pebbles don't shine.

I stand in the kitchen, rinsing to a shine
dented iron pans, rusty kettles and cans.
Trapped by cold, I pour acid-wax crystals
over each tarnished surface. Let no
chore be finished, hands hard as stones
grow boredom like ice and slip back under covers.