To Mary Jo Salter
Beyond the ice-bound stones and bucking trees，
past bewildered Mary， the Meer in snow，
two skating rinks and two black crooked paths
are a battered pair of reading glasses
scratched by the skater's multiplying math.
Beset， I play this game of tic-tac-toe.
Divide， subtract. Who can tell if love surpasses？
Two naughts we've learned make one astonished 0——
a hectic night of goats and compasses.
Folly tells the truth by what it's not——
one X equals a fall I'd not forgo.
Are ice and fire the integers we've got？
Skating backwards tells another story——
the risky star above the freezing town，
a way to walk on water and not drown.