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Francis Masat

Hapless Currents

Snowflakes swirl across the windows. They sift through hapless currents onto the grass-clumped homes of field mice hunkered down—their names unknown to us. Inside the empty dining room, glittered snowflakes twist on the ends of gold ribbons hung from holiday wreaths. They sway in hapless currents of hot rest-home air. Four snowflakes hang over each table. Each flake has a name in gold. The names once caused smiles and tears for mothers—their names unknown to us. Unlike the countless snowflakes swirling down to the field mice homes, the number of snowflakes inside is constant. Each year, though, as if by hapless currents, new names do appear.

Christmas lights
twinkle on and off
beyond a hearse