From Poems with No First Names

the winter is neither a man nor a woman
it lives for three years and three hours
and if you please for three minutes more
with an antlike laughter

its heads grow on stalks of wind
it dances like a broken windowpane
and meows and grunts and howls and coughs
and cuts the dwarves in two

the dwarves don't care for occasional martyrs
in a piggy bank of serenity
they take their mice under their arms
and go away with giant steps

the dwarves don't care for occasional martyrs
they copy their drops on their stitches
sell them at two tears apiece
and go away with giant steps

the dwarves don't care for occasional martyrs
they take their humps on their backs
and go away like draftee-hees
naturally with giant steps

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