Who taught you to bake a moon from cups of snow?

had you wanted to be alone?
none of us were the type of people
who liked to check the weather-- me
or you or the boy next door with 
the wire-haired dog who barked
at clouds-- we listened at 
night here by the unlit fireplace
and heard him barking so we knew
what was coming-- we have never been
afraid of a snow storm--
the cellar is stocked with everything
we need-- the stained glass windows
are behind the curtain for when
we want to make believe the sun is
changing-- or fiery enough to 
turn the snow into rivers--
among stacks of condensed milk 
and canned sweet peas we hid the 
video tapes and the VCR-- equipped
only for another trip to 
a incantated morning full
of illuminence in the windows--
i had though it would be better
to be snowed in alone-- i had 
thought you would be happier out there
and the neighbor boy's dog became
only a muffle in another 
layer of marzipan smoothed over
the heads of the trashcans--
what were you doing here so
late-- i had told you
when you hear the dog bark that
means that it is time to leave--
time to forget-- time to stack condensed
milk and video tapes
in the trunk of a car and find somewhere
to talk to the grey-eye sky 
all alone-- he's only looking
for a simple conversation about
stained glass or our tendency to
forget that it can't snow forever
or has it already snowed forever
and we have only forgotten
what a morning looked like without
the sun sprawled out in sugar-icing 
layers--
you and i dropped the moon
into the oven that night
because the house had given up on
keeping us warm but the planets 
know what it's like to be frozen--
it was only warm in the kitchen so
that's were we ate canned peas
an d pretended each was a 
tiny solar system attempting 
an orbit-- squished civilizations
between our fingers--
that was the first time we looked 
out the window without the impersonation
stained glass making believe 
it was summer or the square glasses
poised on the nose of a cathedral--
did you mean for it to be you
and me here alone with the faint
echo of the neighbor's dog alerting us
to the snow?
did you remember or was this
only an accident that it happened
to be you who had stolen the moon
the night before 
how convenient
to know someone so prepared 
to wake up with all the sugar 
of the earth dumped onto the front
lawn-- no we couldn't have been sweeter--
dip your head into the sweet milk
with me and we can still
dry in the kitchen were we 
are leaving our sun to cool in the pan--
close the windows-- we can forget about
the rest of the earth-- we'll
open the door only when we run
out of sweetness-- pluck a cup from
the glow-dust on the welcome mat--
when you open the door
we can still hear him-- the dog
that is-- he's still calling someone--
a match stick in his throat--
warning us it will snow again tonight
and you and i will be here--