To Mary Jo Salter

    Beyond the ice-bound stones and bucking¹ trees，

    past bewildered Mary， the Meer in snow，

    two skating rinks and two black crooked² paths

    are a battered³ pair of reading glasses

    scratched by the skater's multiplying math.

    Beset⁴， 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 hectic⁵ night of goats and compasses.

    Folly⁶ tells the truth by what it's not——

    one X equals a fall I'd not forgo⁷.

    Are ice and fire the integers we've got？

    Skating backwards⁸ tells another story——

    the risky⁹ star above the freezing town，

    a way to walk on water and not drown.