On an Alley Corner

Your eyes are cold and dim
Like frozen flesh on a glacier rim.
Your smile is keen as a steel knife
Like a madman cursing his crazy wife.

Your hope is fire that is tired and ill,
That hisses but never eats the chill
From your skin tight ribs concealed with thrift
Behind the ragged blessing of a gift.

Your wish is maddening want for food,
For bright reflections on polished wood,
For a house with a thousand rooms and halls,
And lamps of frozen trumpet calls.