WEBVTT

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I grew up in
Southern California.

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Means that I grew up without any
snow and ice, any of the things

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that winter really represents
for those of us who

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live on the East Coast.

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And consequently, I still
have a magical fascination

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for snow and ice.

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I've always seen it as a
traditional, symbolic death

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of growing things.

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I suffer terribly from the cold.

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I've got rheumatism.

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And yet, there's still
something perfect, and crystal,

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and beautiful about the
cold that fascinates me.

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I wrote this poem
called "Winter Ode."

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"Winter, winter, winter.

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There is winter in my heart.

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I am past 30, and
winter is like my feet,

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frozen animals in the snow.

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Winter, winter.

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The name of everyone I love
rings in those syllables.

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Winter, winter.

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Everyone I wait for is asleep.

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And winter is the winter
of my aching throat

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and my hands that look
in the dark for something

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warm to touch, for
something warm to touch.

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Winter, winter.

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You remind me that
winter numbs me.

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I cannot feel what
I am touching.

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A friend.

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A round, a fat sun.

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A man with red, round face,
blazing with ragged fire,

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blazing with his need to be
the center of this system,

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he says, you hate
young girls, Diane,

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forgetting that you,
yourself, are a young girl.

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And I think of my wintry
smile, my eyes of winter

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that want to freeze all the
young, warm girls of the world

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who are stealing you, the
man I love, away from me.

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Those girls who take
ancient husbands away

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from ancient wives and
the foolish, ancient women

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they will become, who
will lose their even

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more ancient husbands
to other young girls.

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And no one sees winter.

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The deep winter, the
winter of every night

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alone, of an empty
house, of gold snakes,

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of chainy metal that are warmer,
more alive, touch me oftener

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than you, the man I love.

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The man with winter in his ax.

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The man who puts winter
between himself and me,

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the man who makes me ache
with cold, who makes me

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think of the moon.

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Look at the frozen brook.

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Winter, winter, a
syllable of snow.

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A whisper in a blizzard,
that's how my love for you

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is received, like a
whisper in a blizzard.

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I remember always the word
that defines my life, winter.

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Winter, winter, winter,
winter, winter."

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