We were besieged: iced winds from barren grounds,
then snow hushed down. That night, she screamed – breaking
her wedding china piece by piece. A car
slowed in the muffled street. The deranged have
no dignity or beauty but the trick
of absolute exclusion – only snow prints
left, scattered porcelain and their caged birds
swaggering in the locked house filling with dark.
He waited – for who would anticipate
life’s accidents, mysteries, in rooms furnished
with grace and littered with utensils
of barbarism? We occupy
the suburbs of folly.